


See no Evil, Deny All Falsehoods

by Scythe_of_Starlight



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Archive 81 Reference, Arguments and Apologies, Author Commentary, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crossfandom Spoilers, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Cryptids Podcast Reference, Cults, Don't copy to another site, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye!Alex Reagan, F/F, F/M, Fear of Monsters (Teraphobia), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Foe Yay, Hallucinations, Helen and Elias Fight Over Strand, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Oedipus Complex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide Bombing, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Insomnia, Journalist Alex Reagan, King Falls AM Reference, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Psychic Abilities, Psychological Horror, Richard Strand Despises the Magnus Institute, Romantic Fluff at the End, Sleepwalking, Spiral!Richard Strand, Swearing, Tags Contain Spoilers, The Black Tapes Season 2 Spoilers, The Magnus Archives Season 4 Spoilers, Unspecified Time Frame, Wordcount: Over 30.000, Yandere, Yandere Love Triangle, cosmic horror, fake advertisements, transcript style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22859743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scythe_of_Starlight/pseuds/Scythe_of_Starlight
Summary: Alex Reagan receives a somewhat sudden request leading from the paradoxical Paranormal Investigator, Dr. Richard Strand as he wishes to investigate the bombing of the House of Wax Museum in Great Yarmouth.He's had this resentment for the place the culprits were employed at for a long time, and desires nothing more than to interrogate the heart of the 'ethically-bankrupt' Magnus Institute, Elias Bouchard, over how the bombing came to take place under his management.(Chapter 4 has been posted!)
Relationships: Alex Reagan/Richard Strand, Elias Bouchard/Richard Strand (VERY one-sided), Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Helen Richardson/Richard Strand (implied) (one-sided?), Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. The Opposing Institute Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Been a minute, but I wanted to finish writing this before I actually uploaded the first chapter.
> 
> WARNING: This fanfiction contains spoilers for The Magnus Archives Seasons 3 and 4, and spoilers for The Black Tapes Season 2. If you have not experienced either podcast in this crossover - and given that both are categorized as Mystery fiction - it is highly recommended that you do not read this fanfiction until you have caught up. Don't worry it will be here when you get back. However, if you have experienced one half of this crossover, and/or do not care about spoilers, then I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, I think the Black Tapes Podcast is coming back. The description for 306 has been changed to "mid-season finale"
> 
> (Edit: fleshed out the description)  
> (Edit 3/21: Fixed Categories)  
> (Edit 9/1: Thank you for 300 hits!!! 💖)

[[Theme Song and Intro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqVjvnjitwA)]

The Black Tapes Podcast is an exploration of life, belief, faith, and occasionally the paranormal. Here we continue focusing our lens on the work of the Strand Institute and its enigmatic founder and president, Dr. Richard Strand...or at least, we would have.

From the National Radio Alliance and Minnow Beats Whale, it’s the Black Tapes Podcast. I’m Alex Reagan.

[Musical Interlude]

This week we're doing something a little special with this _feature length_ episode, instead of digging further into one of his ever-mysterious Black Tapes, Dr. Strand actually came forward with an investigation request of his very own! He came into the studio earlier this morning during a check-up with our equipment - looking as if he found God and was on his way to a fight to pick with the universe. Nic was mercifully away with his TANIS-chasing for him to miss seeing the raging bull that was Richard Strand… When Strand came striding up to me, he and I just had to stare at each other and I almost started silently praying that he hadn't found out which of the first humans took the first bite out of the Apple of Eden.

_"G-Good morning…Dr. Strand, you're looking...pissed."_

_"Morning, Alex. I have something urgent for you."_

_"Wait, Strand, was there a breakthrough with one of your Black Tapes?"_

_"No. It's...consider this a request...of sorts. It's true that it's urgent but, before I could properly ask this I had to wait a while for the dust to settle. Literally."_

_"Okay…it's not like you to beat around the bush like this, what's got you so upset?"_

_"Listen, can we take this somewhere more comfortable? This will take a while."_

I think he could see the curiosity light up in my eyes at his odd refusal to get immediately to the point, as he walked past with some air of satisfaction at my predictability or something. We moved into the break room and took our business to the couch and coffee table. I brought out two cups of coffee as Strand got a collection of files, with printed online articles and pages of hand-written notes, all of which were spread out across the table so far as to almost cover the entire glass surface. I almost dropped the cups in startled surprise at how little room there was to place either.

_"Wow…! Good God Strand, where do you want these if the table's, like, completely occupied?"_

_"On the floor or something."_

_"No…I won't allow that either."_

_"Fine, just leave it on the counter then. I can't move any of this, it's all important."_

_"But you...haven't even alluded to the purpose of this surprise conference of your's, Strand. Just tell me what's up."_

_"Is Nic here?"_

_"Uhh, not at the moment, no. He's out doing TANIS-things."_

_"Chasing daydreams."_

_"TANIS-things! A-Anyway, let's not have you ruin his hopes and dreams today, what is all this?"_

_"Hmph, fair enough. Alex, given your friendlier stance on this kind of 'supernatural' stuff, can you recognize...the name of_ **_this building_ ** _?"_

Strand pointed to the same name that were scattered around the library of documents and articles, some of his written portions had that same name highlighted in red or yellow and underscored in thick black pen marks. Try as I might to rack my brain for any clear recollections of that place, none came.

_"The Magnus Institute? Never heard it before now. Is that like a sister to your Strand Institute?"_

_"No. Think of this as more like The Strand Institute's evil twin."_

_"Woaaah… okay so, you are so hated in the paranormal community that someone made a rival Institute just to spite you!? Leaving aside the ever-elusive million dollar prize and your overall reputation, who the Hell did you piss off?"_

_"Just a lot of nobodies too wrapped up in their own biases and delusions to ever have what it takes to start a business. Magnus was founded in 1818 and mine started in 1995, and there are no connections between the two whatsoever. Just that_ **_I_ ** _simply consider it as_ **_my_ ** _worst enemy."_

As I'm sure you've heard from the man himself multiple times over the course of this podcast, the amount of pure venom he has for anything that remotely hints at a supernatural explanation is fair game to Dr. Strand. Leave no stone upturned, no string of logic left unused, leave nothing up to the imagination. With just that simple sentence, I pretty much understood exactly what kind of place the Magnus Institute was. 

_"So...they like, do the opposite and try to...prove the supernatural is real."_

_"You better put some massive air quotes around_ **_'prove'_ ** _, also add on the fact that they have scores of employees that all make a living out of exploiting peoples' ignorance of scientific advancement and use their overactive imaginations to drum up hysteria in the gullible idiots who believe in their blatant garbage. Each of them assigned to take any unfortunate sap off the street and record their boozed up fairy tale as if the monster under their bed were really where those scratches came from, and not just from the night they cheated on their partner but were too embarrassed to admit it to anyone with even a shred of common sense. They are an insult to the concept of discourse and…"_

Strand halted his rant to sink a little further into the couch, clutching at his head in obvious frustration, grimacing in a way that honestly made me worry that he'd ruptured a blood vessel.

_"...and_ _this is a story that I've been keeping a very close and personal eye on. With today being the day where I've compiled enough of my findings to bring this little passion project of mine to you and your podcast."_

_"To what, publicly expose them?"_

_"To prove that The Magnus Institute has no right to continue existing."_

_"So...we're gonna expose them."_

_"...if it makes you happy to hear me say it in no uncertain terms, yes."_

'Passion project', 'exposing', that part of his tirade that may or may not have been a Freudian Slip referencing Coralee's affair... to be real with you all, I never thought that Strand would be the type to go out of his way to debunk the existence of a London-based Institute that literally had nothing to do with him. Because, sure, even if he does have a million dollars stashed away somewhere, I highly doubt that would be anywhere near enough to cover the legal expenses should _the_ _Magnus Institute_ wish to sue him for slander. But then again...this is Dr. Richard 'The-Supernatural-isn't-Real-You-[CENSORED]-Idiot' Strand I'm talking about here. So maybe it's not _that_ far out of his ballpark.

_[Typing and mouse-clicking can be heard] "Dr. Strand, this place is across the proverbial pond and they seem to take 'Statements' from anyone that wants to share their story or comes seeking advice. Even their website page has a section where you can download their Institute branded PDF sheet and print it out to mail in a Statement yourself. They're just hearing people out. Is that so wrong?"_

And, getting back on the honesty train, I really didn't see a problem with them just hearing people's stories and experiences. I mean, if a workaholic who gets less than two hours of sleep per night gets on their morning commute and starts noticing that the sky was literally falling from their sleep-deprived perspective, would it really be so unforgivable for them to seek out someone to just...talk to about it? Just to get it off their chest and not have to keep it bottled for fear of someone like Strand calling them crazy?

_"Overlooking my myriad of objections about how they have more commonalities with a Catholic Church confessional than anything even tangentially related to the realm of Academia, I'm mainly looking into a particular incident regarding the then-current manager and a few members of his Archival staff."_

_[Papers shuffling]_

_"Tell me, are you aware of the people in these pictures?"_

Layered on top of Strand's cacophony of _Magnus_ related desk clutter were a hand full of, either mugshots or ID photos. Five total, three men and two women, with two of those men carrying what looked to be similarly circular scars or blemishes. They almost all look to be some varying degree of unhappy, sans the most professional appearing man and the woman with the stern glare. The only one with a beaming smile fit for a photo shoot, was the young man I almost recognized.

_"Ummmm… so that one, with those circle-scars,"_

_"Mm-hm?"_

_"The only one that had the will to smile for the camera, he looks… kinda familiar but in a not-really kind of way, I feel like I should know him, weird as that sounds. Does that count toward something?"_

_"Yes. That's actually the thing."_

After pushing aside the picture of the man in the dry-cleaned suit, Strand braced himself and continued.

_"These four photos are of the suspects, key employees of the Magnus Archival staff, with this one, Mr. Kill-Me-Now - being the Head Archivist. They were released in a number of online news publications and televised news channels after the incident, in both America and England. The American FOX News site, CNN, New York Post; in Britain's BBC and The Guardian, though none of them are where I'd personally go to find information on anything_ **_factual_ ** _, I still made sure to cover all my bases... I found that in practically one week since it's happening, all the articles were scrubbed from the internet and the story was totally dropped."_

_"Wait, but...really?! So if I got online to look this up, I'd get nothing relevant!?"_

_"If you can somehow outdo my years of attempting that same thing and actually come up with an article, then I'll eat every document on this table. But that's not all that's wrong here."_

_[Tapping]_

_"This man, the one you recognize?"_

_"Not really but yeah?"_

_"No one can remember who he was."_

Right. So. A lot to unpack there. At that point I took a second to really let Strand's case sink in. This _Magnus Institute_ … an established place in the heart of the UK where everyday folk like you and I can make Statements about the spooky happenings that disrupt our daily lives, has potentially been covering up an international news story stemming from these photographed employees in the span of seven day… and to boot, no one can remember who Mr. Smiles was… **_was_ ** _?_

_"Hey uh, Dr. Strand…?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Uh, okay so… uh, what exactly happened to these people? Like, what exactly did they_ **_do_ ** _?"_

_"So you don't remember either…"_

_"At least not at the moment, mind jogging my memory a little? You're kinda leaving me behind here."_

Even if I was only half joking, I could recognize the signs of hesitation flash on Strand's face. Those bispecaled sky blue eyes rapidly scanning through the desk of documents like an escape hatch to this topic were hidden somewhere inside. It took a second for me to notice, but in the silence, Strand hadn't stopped fiddling with his empty ring finger yet.

_"Promise me you won't do anything stupid before I tell you."_

_"You trust me that little?"_

_"Alex. I know you. Don't take it upon yourself and do something stupid for my sake, got it?"_

…

_"Alright, I promise."_

_"...thanks…"_

In hindsight I can't help but thank him back. After dragging back the photo of the suited professional and bringing with it a specifically folded portion of a London map, he finally got to the real point of his issue.

_"This man is Elias Bouchard, the then-current manager of The Magnus Institute. It was under his time as certified manager that this man - Head Archivist Jonathan Sims - was directly involved with the bombing of the House of Wax Museum in Great Yarmouth, alongside his assistants: Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain - both former police officers of the London Metropolitan Police as if this world weren't corrupt enough, and this man: Timothy Stoker, the bomb detonator that no one remembers."_

Strand then shuffled through the mountain of papers, quickly locating the New York Times article of the bombing. The headline read: _Four Employees of London-based Magnus Institute Commit Potential Terrorist Bombing on Great Yarmouth's House of Wax Museum_

You can't audibly hear it, but my jaw dropped to the floor. These five people that I've only just recognized as people that exist in the world, who work at a place that I only just found out about… turns out they bombed a wax museum. So many questions, I had… so many questions!

_"Oh...oh my God… okay uh… let's start with the suspects. Just tell me everything!"_

_"Well alright, just buckle in for this."_

With something of a triumphant air about him, Strand reshuffled the photos to align with the splintered newspaper clippings and highlighted quotes of some articles, divided by color-coding, then began.

_"Jonathan Sims, as he could be seen presumably barking orders to the other three near the entrance and charging on ahead, it was safely assumed that he was the leader. He was critically injured from suffering severe blunt force trauma to the head when pieces of the building shot out from the blast, and was rushed to the ER by ambulance. A critical concussion with potential brain hemorrhaging was all that was reported in most places, though I've also read that he was either placed into a medically induced coma or naturally slipped into one. Considering the damage, he must've been second-closest to the explosion."_

_"Alright… he must still be in the hospital…"_

_"Alice 'Daisy' Tonner was unable to be found in the rubble nor anywhere in the vicinity of the museum's wreckage, security footage clearly showed her sneaking into the truck out front with the others and what was thought to be a tote bag filled with unlicensed firearms, where the police - ah, the police of uh, comparatively upstanding, non terrorist accomplice variety - later found the remains of the C4 those nutjobs somehow got their hands on. Apparently over the speakers, an anonymous witness outside could overhear her supposedly attacking or mauling someone, with Tonnor's voice 'growling' things like: 'You're dead, I'll kill you…' A search was done for her, but she's still unaccounted for months later, due to the article erasure."_

_"Pass me another article… maybe something has a development…?"_

Spoiler alert, none of the articles went beyond the points that Strand was describing.

_[Papers are shifted through and passed around]_

_"Magnus Institute's corrupt former cop Number 2: Basira Hussain was decidedly luckier than her partner-in-crime. She only sustained mild lacerations and moderate bruising. It's shown from some by-standing witnesses that she actually left the scene a very fair bit earlier than her friends, with difficulty walking and little in the way of understanding simple and comprehensive questions, but largely unharmed even before the detonation. It was suspected that she might've changed her mind about the whole thing...still too late for my liking, but hey."_

_"And finally…"_

_"Timothy Stoker. He was- [clears throat] his_ **_remains_ ** _were discovered deep inside the rubble by the police a few days later, during Sims' ICU treatment and Hussain's recovery. They were able to unearth the busted detonator and forensics found that Sims' and Stoker's fingerprints were on it, but only Stoker's was on the trigger. Given the hand shaped indentation and scratches on the detonator itself, the police figured there was a struggle of some kind. The marks on Sims' face apparent hand imprints on his throat at least prove that a fight broke out."_

_"A… struggle for the detonator, maybe? After watching Hussain walk out, maybe Sims got cold feet and it was just too late?"_

_"Or maybe Sims wanted to be the one to pull the trigger so badly that he almost succeeded in committing a Lovers' Suicide with the axe weilding lunatic. Who knows? As far as I know, these are the only pieces of evidence that anything happened to the House of Wax on August 7th, 2017_ **_at all_ ** _. And it's only because I had the lucky foresight to even print these out in the first place. The reasons why they did this, individual motivations, how the House of Wax became their target, even if any civilians died in Stoker's C4 extravaganza are all completely unknown. I just can't shake the possibility that Bouchard had something to do with it, he was their manager, they were members of his Archival staff, he must've known! Or even the man who replaced him, with all the information I've been able to gleam being his name: Peter Lukas. [frustrated groan] That's all without mentioning how destructively terroristic the_ **_previous_ ** _Head Archivist - Gertrude Robinson was and whatever happened to her… [deep sigh] God what the Hell is this place...?"_

_"But… but starting with_ **_one_ ** _can of worms at a time, you're sure that no one remembers who Timothy Stoker was? For you of all people to make that claim is--"_

_"My claim is true."_

And there it was. I was so caught up in the enstanging rabbit hole that was placed before me, those words from him are what caused me to remember who exactly Dr. Richard Strand is. The unforgiving skeptic, possessing a belief in nothing and everything that's concrete and real at the same time. An advocate for the advancement in science. The unremorseful and sadistic _God Killer_ that Friedrich Nietzsche so desperately tried to warn us about. For someone like Strand to proclaim that all information regarding a deceased suicide bomber is just, **gone** … there **_must've_ ** been evidence to support his claim, despite the irony. But maybe it's because I'm not like Strand that I was able to notice...

_"Uh, Alex, you okay?"_

...even though there wasn't a shred of evidence to support this certainty I felt…

_"Hello…? Alex, if you need to step out to drop that thousand yard stare, feel free--"_

_"Are you scared of something?"_

_"Huh?"_

...something behind the coolness in Strand's eyes looked, afraid. I just… **knew**.

_"I-I don't know, you just look a little, uh, apprehensive about this…"_

_"Apprehensive that you'll go full Vigilante Journalist Mode, sure."_

_"No I mean with this case. Something in this Wax Museum bombing is scaring you, right?"_

_"Well yeah. Not everyday I take on a merry band of terrorists working under a crackpot "Institute" with their incompetently reckless boss and unforgivably suspicious former manager. Something this extreme would spook anyone. Your point?"_

_"No no, I mean, something with the erasure of Stoker and the news story. I mean that."_

_"If you're implying that the Magnus Institute maybe having pulled a very plausible cover-up big enough to erase an internationally trending news story_ **_isn't_ ** _the main thing that makes me anxious, then sorry to say but you lost me."_

I just **_knew_ **.

_"Well, alright nevermind. Forget I said that, I'm probably just a little overwhelmed."_

_"Well, I don't blame you. Just let me know if you need a break from this, it's a lot for me even after the years I spent digging through all this to even make it this far."_

_"That's why you wanted Nic? 'Cause this sure seems up his esoteric and insanely deep alley!"_

_"Yeah but doesn't this seem fairly fitting for your alley too? I'm sure with your spooky little ghost podcast and all."_

_"Listen, you and your Black Tapes started this ghost train Conductor Strand! Don't think you can blame me for wanting a platform!"_

_"Hmph! And this is where I plead the 5th."_

Dr. Strand and I went back and forth for a while, shifting through _Magnus Institute_ topics like we were canoeing through a winding river, one that got increasingly more strange and unnerving for every wave that crashed into us. The number of sleepless nights he went through trying to dig up the mere name of _Peter Lukas_ . The bits and pieces regarding Robinson's crusade against this carnival event and that taxidermy shop. An infestation that plauged the Institute some years ago, the disappearance of _Sasha James_ \- one of Sims' original assistants, the case of the missing cassette tapes that was stolen from the London Metropolitan Police - likely by Tonner or Hussain - during the investigation of Robinson's [CENSORED] **murder…** the things on that desk ran **_deep_ **.

Yet no matter what we always came circling back to the Wax Museum bombing, with Strand's working hypothesis being that the Archival staff must've idolized Robinson's… _quest_ after she was made a kind of Archivist Martyr, and wanted to emulate her… _bravery_ in standing up against whatever… _enemy_ she was fighting against. The House of Wax seemed to be doing a party or festival type event and the Archival staff in their - Strand's words - "cultish madness" wanted to destroy it. Just after summarizing how many articles he actually collected, it was then that Strand jolted upright and ushered the conversation back to the bombing itself. Specifically, an exclusive Skype-based interview with Timothy Stoker's parents that Ruby had arranged, and that he transcripted himself - by hand - just before the erasure…

_"Uhhh Dr. Strand?"_

_"...I-I… it's…"_

...or so he thought.

_"Is this a joke…? These are just blank sheets of notebook paper."_

_"No I wrote it down. I remember writing it down. Ruby saw me writing it down. The Stokers allowed me to write it all down! I checked everything twice before coming here, Alex. It's_ **_here._ ** _M-Maybe I just misplaced it. Let me check."_

And he did check, starting by calmly looking through the labeled files in meticulous order and ending by practically throwing papers about quite uncharacteristically… the transition was faster than either of us are willing to admit.

_[Documents are shuffled around]_

_"Where is it? C'mon I wrote it all down… I wouldn't have spent an entire night transcribing interviews just to have dreamt up the most important one. I wouldn't be that careless, no matter how tired I was!"_

_"Strand, Strand! Calm down, you probably just forgot it. No big deal, more than once I put the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the fridge, screw ups like this happen to everyone! You can just tell me what happened in the interview, remember, I trust you. I'll believe your word you know!"_

_"That's not good enough, Alex. It's proof of my claim! I wrote it down, I reread it after waking up today, and then I brought it here! This is…!"_

Suddenly, Strand halted. Froze. It wouldn't be that crazy to say that his blood chilled to a solid. He was on his hands and knees, staring holes into the paper that supposedly held his most important transcript nestled between the others that had fallen to the floor. 

Now, you're probably thinking that I - Alex Reagan, creator of Black Tapes Podcast, lover of ghost stories and weird happenings - am just making this up or embellishing the actual goings-on for the sake of our show's entertainment factor. But trust me, **_I'm not_ **. I'll keep the narration short for this next part so you can hear everything as verbatim as possible.

_"What… the Hell…?"_

_"Huh? Dr. Strand are you alright? What is it?"_

_"It changed…"_

_"What? The paper is still blank..."_

_[Clattering sound as the recorder is picked up and paper crinkles as Alex tiptoes through the carpeted gaps to Strand's side]_

_"Hey, Dr. Strand, are you okay?"_

_"Huh? I didn't draw that…"_

_"Staying on the floor like that can't be comfortable-"_

_"I think it's… spinning…"_

_"But there's nothing on the paper. It's just blank okay?"_

_"...spirals…"_

_"Huh?"_

_"Alex are you seeing this?"_

_"Uhh, no uh… can you describe it for me? It's tough to see from over here…"_

_"All of my handwriting is circling inward into closely knit swirls. It's all turning into spirals."_

_“Dr. Strand…? You wanna take a break? You uh, must be exhausted, all this hard work.”_

_“Exhausted… I uh…”_

_“No matter how much you want to go after The Magnus Institute, you can't go overclocking yourself. Now c'mon."_

_[The sound of ruffling clothes fabric and small grunts of effort]_

_“Let's get back to the couch.”_

_[Two sets of footsteps tiptoe through scattered paper]_

_“Huh, that, over there… under that painting."_

_"...that's the vending machine. Look you're probably just tired. You came here on too little sleep, people that push themselves too far kinda start seeing things. Lord knows I've done it before so just relax."_

_"I know that already… but that door right there._ **_That door_ ** _wasn't_ **_there_ ** _before…!"_

_[Couch cushions creaking as weight is placed back on it]_

_"Easy, easy... There is no door, just a painting of some fruit, a vending machine, and polyester drywall. That's all that's over there."_

_"Uh… Alex…"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"There's a door on the ceiling."_

" _Dr. Strand… j-just lie down okay? Come on, right here."_

_"There's a_ **_door_ ** _on the_ **_ceiling_ ** _."_

_"Here, let me… turn this off for a while."_

_"Alex, there is a [CENSORED]_ **_DOOR_ ** _\--!"_

Now… listen. Dr. Richard Strand is not the type of man I'd assume to be a liar. Or an actor. Or a man with a Doctor-approved prescription for anti-psychotic medication. If he does lie, it's most likely to protect his private life from my podcast and by extension - the public eye, he wouldn't just choose to pull the insanity plea just to freak me out. If he ever started acting, it'd be to play Devil's Advocate with the intent to enrich the discourse surrounding the concept of the supernatural, he'd never purposely do something like this, he cares too much about his image for that. And he's confirmed with me that among the medications he's taken over his life, pain-killers that anyone could find at Walmart were the strongest he's had, excluding any hospital visits. No history of hallucinations, no psychiatrist appointments, no anti-psychotics, no Schizophrenia or Schizoaffective diagnosis either. So I really, **_really_ ** don't know what happened there. I'm probably twice as stunned as I was when it happened.

There I was: consoling Dr. Strand about the things he was seeing as he rested his head on my lap in the break room of Pacific Northwest Studio. Because I've never seen him like this before, I did my best to only ask questions rather than trying to rock the boat. Going on with talks of _'what are you seeing now?',_ _'is the door still there?',_ and _'did your transcript come back yet?'_ He answered each one to the best of his ability before the exhaustion took him for the next while. As Strand slept, I got up to clean the papers, to get the feeling back in my legs. Then I actually found the elusive transcript Strand was so hellbent on finding.

It was dated August 13th of 2017, stating that those interviewed were "Mary" and "Vaughn" Stoker: the senior citizen parents of two sons, the younger Danny and the older Timothy. It started with some general introductory business until Strand asked if he could record their conversation, they refused, as at the time they were already bombarded by reporters and police from all sides, and though Strand noted the apologetic tone in their voices, they didn't want to get dragged into the American media as well. Strand bluntly replied that it was already too late for that, to which the Stokers agreed to let him transcript it instead - so long as their voices and real names were omitted in whatever he was doing, just like they agreed with the English media as well. He obviously obliged. Ruby stepped in to ask lighter, - palette cleansing - questions while Strand went in on all cylinders. One of his hard-hitters got a response strange enough to prompt an underlining of multiple sections in frantic red highlights.

He asked how long Timothy knew about the Magnus Institute with a comment that their son was said to have been utterly obsessed with the place around the time his younger brother Danny disappeared, as reported by some lesser known British tabloid publications. But "Vaughn" corrected that Timothy was their only child, it was just that he had an imaginary younger brother that he kept into adulthood named Danny, also claiming that they admittedly played into his delusion to make him happy. Given the blatant contradiction that Danny was an accomplished model with advertisement gigs at Timothy's former place of work - a publishing company, Strand made a side-note on the page saying _'I understand wanting to move on from something traumatic but isn't this a tad ridiculous?'_. "Mary" confessed that their son sometimes called, updating them about his search for evidence on what happened to Danny during the earlier half of his employment at Magnus as a Researcher, with one particular call, he had Gertrude Robinson on the line with him, but it held little relevance. 

Questions and answers continued without incident until halfway down the third page, Strand asked if Timothy had any grievances with the circus event that the House of Wax was advertising at the time, then both parents firmly responded that the museum never advertised anything about a circus. Strand annotates: _'Maybe the event was more advertised online?'_ According to them, Timothy seemed most aggravated with his boss and manager. He held a deep grudge against Jonathan Sims for his stalking, paranoia regarding Robinson's murder investigation, and refusal to trust him after a pest infestation at the Institute. Likewise for Elias Bouchard, in their words Timothy often left scores of voicemails - sometimes enraged to the point of tears - over what he described as his "psychopathic boss and his magic eyeball [CENSORED]". 

Strand presses the eyeball point, and here's another part that he underlined as extra-important: Timothy complained at length regarding Elias's eyes in particular, with constant mentions of how he believed they had an all-seeing quality, how badly he wished to escape his gaze, and how much he wanted things to go back to how they used to be. As well as referencing something called "The Eye" and how it watched his brother die, even with a few direct referential connections between "The Eye", Elias, Jonathan, and Gertrude. Strand again annotates: _'Clear mental disturbances, a suffocating workplace, what seemed to be an abusive boss, and long-held grief. The development of acute paranoid delusions must've been inevitable. Could Bouchard have pressured him into the Wax Museum plan?'_

Ruby spoke up then, asking the Stokers if it were really a good idea to reveal this much information, knowing that Strand was going to go public with their story. "Mary" and "Vaughn" said that they're okay with it, as long as someone fairly represented their son.

Now, at this point, I really couldn't see how everyone forgot who Timothy Stoker was. His parents even wanted someone to just hear them out. I was honestly starting to think that Strand was just hopped up on too much ambition paired with too little sleep to function as normal. Well, until I started noticing some things that seemed wrong with the transcript itself. The annotations got stranger as the interview went on. Call me crazy but, it's like someone else entirely started mimicking - and then mocking! - Strand's style of questioning.

Like here, an example from page 12: Strand was getting a bit agitated over how little the Stokers were willing to share about whether or not Timothy expressed a desire to hurt or kill his coworkers, I know he can get dismissive of others' feelings sometimes, but… he wouldn't push _that_ hard from two grieving parents. He also wouldn't annotate on how _'All these people are the same'_ , that's some sociopath level monologuing right there!

And another - even creepier - one on page 16: the Stokers just… started laughing.

For two pages straight it's just nothing but laughter. All Strand asked was if mental illness ran in their family and all he was met with was _uproarious laughter_ . The annotation even addresses Strand by name, where every one up to this point were in his handwriting and written in first person. But this one incorporated little spirals in the o's, a's, and question marks. It read: _'You think you're so smart, huh Richard? You're so sure that you understand how the world works, huh Richard? You're awfully closed-minded. You're very terribly arrogant. And you have no idea how cute that is. Come on by, when you're ready, no doubt the Archivist would adore to_ _see_ _you and your Journalist!'_

It was signed with a heart made out of a spiral and a stylized drawing of an open eye, with the final sentence _"And I only want to see you, Iconoclast."_ seeming like it was written by a different person - one that wasn't obsessed with Junji Ito's _Uzumaki_ . It was written in a style of cursive that made me think they saw the cursive **_font_ ** and copied it to the letter in the same forest green inked pen as the eye drawing too. 

That's when I decided to completely disregard this entire transcript, I kinda wanted to hope that it was most likely very badly tampered with by some of the stalkers he mentioned way earlier, and I wasn't about to bring it up unless he asked. Which after he woke up from what looked like a mild nightmare, he thankfully didn't, coming up after the break. I’m Alex Reagan, it’s the Black Tapes Podcast. Stay with us.

[Musical Interlude]

…

[[ Welcome to 660 ](https://youtu.be/U0FLtfKOKac) fades in]

"A~alrighty Ben, who're we playing ads for tonight? Any suggestions or should I just close my eyes and wish that it's someone I actually wanna listen to?"

" _[Chuckling]_ I think you've got it kinda backwards there Sammy!"

"No more backwards than how the Science Institute got its name, Hell even the name itself is backwards now that I think about it…"

"No it's not! It's a fine name, just the place itself is… _beyond_ sketchy as Hell."

"And that's why it's backwards! It's a Science Institute, Art is literally the opposite of that!"

"...that pun was so bad it almost didn't make sense."

"Sounds like quite the You Problem™, buddy!"

"H-Hey, c'mon!! This really how you wanna advertise us, with a lame man **pun?!**

"Oh WE'RE the advertisement?!"

"Yes!"

"Oh… well in that case, if you want to hear us-"

"...bicker into the wee hours of the dawn,"

"...and get the latest updates on our sleepy little haunted town, turn your stations to _The Sammy and Ben Show_ on King Falls AM!"

"We air the 1st and 15th of every single month on [ Podbay ](https://podbay.fm/podcast/1016760065) , [ Spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/show/7fIe7hsmj65WhwIuJHWCSh?nd=1) , [ Soundcloud ](https://m.soundcloud.com/king-falls-am/episode-1-may-1-2015)…"

"...or _wherever_ you get your podcasts, we don't judge around here!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you don't, _Shotgun._ "

" _Don't advertise me like that_."

"You can also follow our show on Twitter [ @KingFallsAM ](https://twitter.com/KingFallsAM?s=09) or you can follow Sammy's glorious self [ @KingFallsSammy ](https://twitter.com/KingFallsSammy?s=09) on Twitter as well!"

"Alright that's a _little_ better…"

"And remember to tune into 660 on the AM radio dial!"

"...huh, being an ad doesn't feel that weird after all."

"Told you! But you wanna know what feels weirdest?"

"I'm scared of the answer but hit me with it anyway!"

"Being a _subtraction_ _!_ "

"Okay that's it we're shutting this--"

[Welcome to 660 fades out]

…

[Musical Interlude]

Welcome back to the Black Tapes Podcast, I'm Alex Reagan. After throwing all hope for getting a shred of coherency out of that transcript out the metaphorical window, I heard shuffling from behind and wondered if I should really record Strand waking up after an experience like that. So when his first muddled and dazed words were of course asking about his transcript, I only told him that he was right and that no pair of grieving parents should ever just _forget_ their son's existence. Especially after he and his coworkers bombed an innocent Wax Museum.

He breathed a sigh of relief at that.

If Strand is allowed to lie to protect his personal life, then I'm allowed to protect his sanity in the same way, even if he will eventually listen to this and chew me out. It was worth it in the moment, Strand! Sorry you had to find out like this!

He'd been out for around twenty minutes and in that time I'd managed to read the whole 24 pages that I scavenged up. Don't even get me started on page 23, I swear to you - that was a _bloodstain._ But anyway, it honestly came as a surprise then when he noticed I wasn't recording and wondered aloud Hell had frozen over.

_"--n't be like that! You seriously wanted me to record you while you slept? Is someone as refined and put-together as you actually_ **_into_ ** _that sorta thing?"_

_"As much as I appreciate the compliments, that's gonna be a 'hell no' from me."_

_"With you wanting everything on tape, something tells me that we switched sides. Is it Opposite Day?"_

_"Depends on if Opposite Day can even exist with a set date… but really I just wanted to know if…"_

_"If I read it."_

_"...no, if it… nevermind. We're getting off topic."_

With the transcript issue seemingly solved for the moment, Strand pieced back together his mountains of findings and ushered for us to continue as if nothing happened. And so we did, for his sake, I feel.

_"So what's the next step in this master scheme of yours?"_

_"Next we actually pay this Magnus Institute a visit. I'm only looking to strike up a conversation with Bouchard, so I'm gonna have to have you get familiar with whatever's left of the Archival staff and gather as much information on the place as possible. I don't think having two civilians speak with a murderer at the same time is a good idea."_

_"You're gonna try to record that conversation?"_

_"If I'm allowed to then yes. He's still locked inside a prison, conversations are recorded anyway. They'll hopefully be extra allowing when I tell them about our investigation."_

_"Our? This is your beast to slay, I'm just gonna gather intel."_

_"And you're the Journalist between the two of us, that's more than I can say for my list of hurt-feeling controversies."_

_"And you know, I should've asked this way earlier, but how long have you been working on this?"_

_"Technically: since before we met. The House of Wax case was the first real time where something this massive regarding Magnus had happened, which opened the floodgates a bit, as it were."_

Strand may have called me the journalist but it can't be understated how much time and effort he went through, he's been going on this even since before I really knew who he was. It got me thinking that… putting all the talk about discourse-advancement aside, maybe _this_ was the main reason he wanted my podcast as a platform. To get more eyes on his case with the Magnus Institute. After Ruby's confirmation that we got the green-light to conduct an interview with the somehow still alive Archivist of Magnus himself, we were browsing the cheapest pair of plane tickets to London, and I had to ask:

_"Hey Dr. Strand…?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Are you going to be okay?"_

_"I'm sure I will, if London's prison system is worth the laws they exist to uphold, then I should be in...little to no danger. But nowadays with these London-based issues… I can only hope to make it out okay."_

_"Dr. Strand--"_

_"That was a joke. Mostly. ...okay more like a half-joke. But seriously, I'll be fine, no need to worry."_

_"But if he was really responsible for Robinson's murder, then how rich is the Magnus Institute for us to not to have heard a single thing about the trial? How good are they at covering things up?"_

_"Don't get all conspiratorial on this now, I'd rather not have us get sued. Not to say those aren't decent questions, and similar things are what I plan to ask Bouchard. It's my guess that the trial of Robinson's murder simply wasn't publicized or with it being so UK-centric, we in America just never caught wind of it. I'm leaning toward the former."_

He had a point, and no matter how many of you listen to my podcast, both this and the Strand and Magnus Institutes cover the same topic of the paranormal, which is really quite niche among the general populous. So if the then-manager of let's say, an internationally recognized bank killed his Head Archivist, it's fair to say that everyone on both sides of the pond would've heard all about it. 

_"The main_ _reason I've been able to catch these articles is most probably because the word 'terrorist' was involved in most of these headlines, and with this evidence, I'm more inclined to believe it than I would otherwise."_

With the more glaring causes for concern put to rest, we finalized our ticket purchases and I moved on to what I found most ominous pertaining to that transcript.

_"Oh and one more question. It may sound a bit weird but..."_

_"Go ahead."_

_"Do uh, do you consider yourself an iconoclast?"_

_"Iconoclast? You must've found where I keep my hate mail, that's the only place where I'm ever called that."_

_"So you wouldn't call yourself one?"_

_"No. As distasteful as I find the concept of religion to be, I never - under any circumstance - condone the destruction of religious iconography, art, or places of worship. That's just as unforgivable as using religion to form a cult."_

_"What about in the 'attacker of religious ideas' way?"_

_"Hmmm… even if the label fits, I still wouldn't attribute it to myself. Just from the implications of the 'destroyer of iconography' definition. Why are you asking, by the way? Which of the floorboards of my Institute did you hear the heartbeat coming from?"_

_"No, no, [chuckles] I was just wondering."_

_"Fair enough."_

Though I still had enough questions to fill the rest of the entire room, I chose to let it rest before he got suspicious about anything. With our flights booked and scheduled interview all set up, the next step for me was as Strand instructed: visit the Magnus Institute, meet this acclaimed Archivist, with an ulterior motive of my own being to confirm who over there tampered with Strand's transcript and just how the hell they pulled it off. 

After another 4 days of prep work we hopped on our flight and headed off on a 3 day trip to London. The Magnus Institute turned out to be a lot smaller than I imagined. That first sleepless night in our room at The Dome Sloane Square, my imagination had cooked up an image of this long and treacherous hike up a deep forested area. One where we'd only be able to reach by travelling throughout the daylight hours, eventually in the night we'd catch peeks of this isolated mansion from between the gaps in the trees. Directly in the light of the full moon, the pristinely cared for classic horror movie setting would seem to glow as a convenient bolt of lightning illuminated it in full for but a fraction of a second. Bats would scatter from the booming thunder, a rusted plaque on the front of the creaky gated fence, would read in bold bronze letters: _The Magnus Institute_ …

...but it's just a small office building. It looked no different than the other Kings Road establishments we drove past in our rental car. Can't say I was disappointed or anything but... At least I got the plaque right. Even if it's actually next to the door.

_"'The Magnus Institute, London. Founded 1818.' It's literally just a low-rise kinda place. Seems big enough to hold only one or two hundred employees."_

_[Sound of door opening and closing, footsteps approach]_

_"_ **_This_ ** _is where four people decided to bomb a museum…?_

_"Alex? You're still not sleeping?"_

_"I **tried** , at least. Woke up around… uh, midnight, and I've been up ever since. Decided to look up Magnus's Yelp reviews, so that's what I'm doing. But I could ask you that same thing, something wrong?" _

_"Can't sleep."_

_"Please tell me my insomnia hasn't infected you."_

_"No it's not like that. Nerves, mainly."_

_"Anxious?"_

_"Something like that."_

_"You can sit with me for a while if you want, turns out the Magnus Institute has its fair share of one star reviews."_

_"And they haven't been deleted?"_

_"Nope, I guess someone in the PR department put their foot down on this one. Some of them are pretty funny too."_

_"...let me see."_

_[Another chair is pulled out, making a dragging sound as it is moved across the carpet. Strand settles.]_

_"Okay, so here's one from January 2016 by… Naomi Herne:_

_'Truly abysmal. As a start, I only went there in the hopes to avoid mockery from other paranormal investigators, so to anyone reading this: do not go to the Magnus Institute expecting to be respected as a human being who underwent something traumatic! Your interviewer will NOT care about your experiences, he will NOT care if you simply wanted someone to talk to! My interviewer still had the nerve to look me in the eye and call me crazy for recounting how the spirit of my husband saved my very life! I left that building feeling more alone than I did in that endless fog. Do not waste your time giving your statement to Jonathan Sims like I had!! These nightmares will never end.'_

_...12 people found that review helpful."_

_[…]_

_"I thought you said these were funny."_

_"I only said 'some'."_

_"...and something tells me that Sims makes more than a few appearances on this list."_

_"Honestly he seems about as skeptical as you when it comes to all this talk of ghosts."_

_"Back then, at least. Just from this he sounded even harsher than me. Respectable, if tactless."_

_"So you don't feel bad for Mrs. Herne?"_

_"Never said that, of course I do. Her review is pretty much an encapsulation on why people believe in falsehoods, namely, as a means to cope or distract oneself from something traumatic. She thought her life was in danger - and maybe it truly was, I don't know - so like something out of a romance novel, the "spirit" of her loving husband - whom she'd likely been mourning at the time - swoops in like a guardian angel and prevents her death, when in reality she was actually saved by the paramedics or something. You'd be surprised how common these types of tales are with those who are grieving. It's such a comforting idea. No less as false as the paranormal itself, but still so soft and comforting. It's deserving of pity, don't you think?"_

There seems to be an unintentional theme going on with this investigation: trauma. Strand's remark to the Stokers' denial toward Danny's existence, Mrs. Herne's one star review, I was half expecting Strand to open up and confess whatever horrible thing made him waver on his hyper-skeptic view, if just for a minute or two. For as skeptical as he used to be, this Jonathan Sims really does show up in a fair number of one star reviews. There were two others that I read before Strand came back, and as for when it was his turn to read one…

_"Wait, Dr. Strand!"_

_"What is it?"_

_"I have an idea. Stoker hated pretty much everyone he worked with, right?"_

_"That's safe enough to assume, yes."_

_"You think he left a one star review on here?"_

_"I don't know. When a person dies, their social media accounts can be deleted by their next-of-kin but only if they choose to, or else they'll still exist, though obviously inactive. Danny's Facebook still exists, but the links to his other accounts are all broken."_

_"What if we try the WayBack Machine?"_

_"I was only able to retrieve a semi-related video from a Youtube commentator using it… but…I've never tried it with their Yelp page."_

Silence overtook our dark hotel room. The white and red light from the laptop illuminated what it could, Strand closed his eyes and mulled over my suggestion with much contemplated brow furrowing and idle finger-tapping. I could almost see the thoughts that ran through his head for every passing second, right in line with the analog clock on the wall by our door. My guess as to his most prominent question? 'Why didn't I think of that?' After a quick check on who can and can't make reviews in relation to their places of employment, we found...

_"Now_ **_this_ ** _is interesting."_

_"I thought current employees weren't allowed to write reviews."_

_"At least, not the ones who plan to continue living."_

...there on that brightly lit LED laptop monitor, was a one star review from none other than Timothy Stoker, dated a mere twenty four hours before his death. The two of us couldn't help but sit there and stare in momentary awe. We seemed to have an actual lead! Or at least a very elaborately written suicide note disguised as a review from a very disgruntled employee, with which Strand can beat Bouchard over the coals with. 

_"...that can't be his actual account. Someone just took one of his pictures from Facebook or Instagram, and forged an account to spark up something. There's no way."_

_"There's no way this isn't him. His entire social media presence was shut down after his remains were discovered. It could only have been done by his parents, and they don't remember even having him, let alone requesting his deletion from every site he frequented."_

_"And that's… from the transcript, right?"_

_"Yes. You read it."_

_"A-And that part was painful to read, okay?"_

_"Oh. Right. Sorry."_

Bouchard, his eyes, and "The Eye'' are mentioned more times than anything else. 

Everyone got a nickname or title of some kind: the very shy Martin Blackwood was frequently called a _"Forsaken Spawn"_ , Melanie King was a-affectionately(???) nicknamed _"Slaughterhouse"_ , Alice "Daisy" Tonner was, um, just called… a _"Hunting Dog"_ … Basira Hussain earned the nickname _"Eye Princess"_ , with finally, the stalker _"Archivist"_ Jonathan Sims - whom Stoker saw as a… uh… yeah, I'm **_not_ ** gonna say that out loud.

_"Everyone has a nickname… Blackwood, King, Tonner, Hussain, Sims… all of them. Was he just trying to insult them or do they have meaning?"_

_"A classic form of cult behavior is the changing of names, either by the cult leader to his or her followers, or by the members to each other. It's not enough for you to be 'John Smith' for example, for the cult's in-group to maintain its status as a community, you need to be 'Forsaken Smith' or 'Hunter John' or…whatever they want you to be."_

_"You basically need to prove your loyalty to the cult's community by adopting and accepting the new identity given to you."_

_"Exactly. From this "Eye" thing being such a constant factor in Stoker's claims, I can only assume that he very much resented the cult dynamic as a whole, and every faction within it. The Forsaken, the Slaughterers, the Hunters, the Eyes, and however many more."_

_"And you think Sims was part of the Eye's faction?"_

_"From how much Sims appeared to have stalked him, Bouchard's position as Sims's "master", and how Stoker apparently recognized that "The Eye" was their supposed "God"… it's pretty much no doubt that the Eye's faction is meant to keep tabs on and police the other subgroups, maybe even the Institute as a whole, with the Archivist possessing a special role among them. From her title, Hussain is probably Sims's apprentice, since Bouchard is in jail and unavailable."_

That both confirms my suspicions that it was someone at Magnus who tampered with Strand's transcript, given that they even referred to _"the Archivist"_ just like Stoker did for Sims, and worries me for just what kind of environment the people at Magnus have to survive under _._ It also makes me wonder for how long they've been stalking us and if they actually plan to recruit us. With myself and Dr. Strand being _"the_ _Journalist"_ and _"the Iconoclast"_ respectively. Still… _"Iconoclast"_ seems a bit too extravagant of a cult title, I wonder if _"the Skeptic"_ was already taken.

_"You think there's a rival cult revolving around circuses? Gertrude and Stoker both really hate the circus, and I think around..."_

_[Soft mouse scrolling noises]_

_"...here! 'The Stranger'! That must be another one!"_

_"It very well could be. The House of Wax were advertising something festival-like, and just like the Parties that many Multi Level Marketing schemes throw to irreparably indoctrinate followers and draw in potential victims, maybe the House of Wax was under 'The Stranger's' control. That would lead to Bouchard: chief control freak and then-leader of the Eyes to send some of his pawns to do his dirty work. On why he excluded Little Miss Slaughter, I don't know."_

Interestingly, Gertrude Robinson is regarded by Stoker as a type of sociopathic Goddess figure, whom he greatly wished to emulate, if only to "hurt them more than she ever could, because I don't plan on dying like a little [CENSORED], not like her. I better have a reason to die than anyone else in this Eye-Spy hellhole." Article erasure or not, it's no wonder why it got deleted. There was no mention as to who _"they"_ are or were, only that "'the monsters of this world' need to be taught a lesson in who 'they' shouldn't have [CENSORED] with." Good God…

_"Wait so, if Stoker hated the cult so much that he was willing to die, why did he adore Robinson so much? She was one of the Eyes too right?"_

_"I don't know. With her strange crusade only making sense from the cult angle, she might really have been this Archivist Martyr. That would also explain Stoker's own choice to commit a suicide bombing, he tried to surpass her efforts_ **_and_ ** _escape the cult once and for all. To teach 'the monsters' a better lesson than she tried to."_

_"It could also be that he only hated Bouchard and his way of running things. Maybe Stoker wanted Robinson to lead the Eyes instead, and may or may not have witnessed her murder. That sounds like an 'Eye' thing to do right? Force someone to watch another person die? I'm just guessing here."_

_"You're getting dangerously close into tinfoil hat territory with that one, besides, we're gonna ask the people themselves in the morning."_

_"And you_ **_are_ ** _gonna ask who Peter Lukas is too, right?"_

_"If I feel like it. [...] Joking, yes. Absolutely."_

I think the both of us deciding to accidentally converse ourselves senseless was actually a bit helpful, I actually started dozing off. Feels like a while since that happened. Strand too, despite doing his best to continue hypothesis crafting and evidence searching, he started losing his train of thought more often and was clearly running on more fumes than even I was. After saving and printing all we could and closing the laptop for the dawn, I couldn't try to sleep without asking one last thing...

_"Hey Dr. Strand? May I ask one more question?"_

_"Can't get enough of me, huh."_

_"T-That's an arrogant thing to assume…"_

_"Kidding. Sure, one more."_

...alluding to the transcript.

_"What's your thoughts on the possibility of a Spiral cult?"_

_"Spiral cult…? The Eye is the "God" of the cult's controlling police, overseers, and stalkers. The Hunters, those who need something to chase to feel worthy of the cult's love bombing. Those Forsaken who have been rejected by society and only feel accepted by the cult's community… but spirals. What would spirals symbolize…?"_

_"Spiraling downward, insanity, mazes, reality warping, things not being as you think they are, hallways, delusions, hallucinations… hallucinating about spirals… Michael, Helen Richardson…"_

_"Gaslighters. The enforcers of the cult who keep the followers in line with the belief system, the producers of propaganda, and maybe the cult's PR as well. They're probably close allies or even partners with the Eyes… that's my guess."_

_"Are you sure that your transcript is okay?"_

_"Mind games don't work on me. Nice try though, and who are Michael and Helen Richardson? Friends of yours? Were they Junji Ito fans? Or cultists you knew?"_

_"...what? I don't know anyone named Helen or Michael. Do you know them? I thought you did..."_

_"You must be beyond tired… inventing new people on the spot like that."_

_"No, I didn't somehow. Their name just, I was thinking of spirals and… those two names just popped up in my head…"_

_"Goodnight Alex."_

_"...yeah, goodnight Dr. Strand…"_

Even then, it was like I was the only one who saw the _True_ _Version_ of the transcript, meanwhile Strand was the only one who saw that _Twisted Version_ instead. During our reading of Stoker's review, I couldn't help but notice that Strand kept taking breaks in between his chosen paragraphs. Now this wouldn't even be noteworthy, it was in the dead of night, he was likely getting tired, and it'd been a long day for us both. But… he kept, mumbling to himself. These little self-affirmations that the words were still in the same places, and little head tilts that almost made it look like the page were spinning, just like his transcript… it concerned me so much that I almost vowed to cut the investigation entirely and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest Psychologist.

But alas, the Magnus Institute and the mysteries that engulfed it were still too enticing for me to give up on. If Strand is confident that he can claw some answers out of Bouchard and put an official end to this Magnus Saga of his, then I need to be confident that I'll be able to see what the Archival staff is all about. Maybe Strand was just doing a disturbingly excellent job at pulling the world's worst prank on me, maybe it's all just a bunch of smoke and mirrors and jumping at our own shadows… 

Why am I hoping for that…?

  
  


Next week, we dive head first into the Magnus Institute itself and finally get a face-to-face interview the much rumored about Head Archivist Jonathan Sims. 

Until then, double check your things to make sure nothing started spiraling. Actually yeah that's bad… Nic cut that part when you get the chance [ashamed laughter] Dr. Strand is gonna murder me...

**.**

**.**

**.**

_The_ _Black Tapes Podcast_ is a Pacific Northwest Stories and Minnow Beats Whale production. Recorded in Seattle and Vancouver. Produced by Nic Silver. Mixed and engineered by Nic Silver and Alan Williams. Edited by Nic Silver and Alex Reagan. Executive producers Paul Bay and Terry Miles.

Thank you so much for listening to the _Black Tapes Podcast_!


	2. The Opposing Institute Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up on the morning of the awaited interview with the Magnus Institute's Head Archivist, Strand opens up just enough to reveal his own sleep related issues to the insomniac Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 2!  
> I'm happy that you decided to come back to this, after realizing that the Black Tapes had Alex reading the ads, this Chapter's should fit the transcript style a bit better.

[[ Theme Song and Intro ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqVjvnjitwA)]

The Black Tapes Podcast is an exploration of life, belief, faith, and occasionally the paranormal. Here we continue focusing our lens on the work of the Strand Institute and its enigmatic founder and president, Dr. Richard Strand.

From the National Radio Alliance and Minnow Beats Whale, it’s the Black Tapes Podcast. I’m Alex Reagan.

[Musical Interlude]

This week we're continuing with Dr. Strand's personal request to investigate the esoteric Magnus Institute of London with another feature length episode. When we last left you, I actually got a genuine night of good sleep! I mean, it technically started at 3-something in the morning but, to Strand's surprise and my own, I **_stayed_ ** asleep and must've had no nightmares from how nice I felt after waking up! The blue sky that filtered in the curtains, combined with the gentle breeze that came from the creaked open window felt like I was starting a new chapter in my life, maybe all I really needed was a change of scenery to clear my head.

But as it stands, it almost seems like a curse.

_"Oh, good morning Dr. Strand, did you sleep okay?"_

_"I can only wish that I did…"_

_"More anxiety?"_

_"More like nightmares."_

Just when I feel like I'm getting better, Strand's sleep begins to suffer. Despite his best efforts to hide all signs of it, his hair was a little too disheveled for any amount of combing to save it, the shadows around his eyes were a shade darker, with his eyes themselves looking a bit too red from a very familiar lack of proper rest.

_"Do you wanna talk about it? For me at least, my dream journal doesn't really help as much as talking to someone."_

Turning his attention to the clock on the wall, it only showed 7 AM, even if there are still employees bustling in the Magnus Institute, their doors don't open to the public until 9:30. He contemplated my offer for a few seconds later, then with a shrug answered:

_"Fine. But let me preface with a question."_

_"Sure."_

_"In the other times where we shared a room, have you ever seen me sleepwalking?"_

It caught me by surprise, in all my insomniatic nights of just staring around our various hotel rooms, it honestly never crossed my mind that sleepwalking was even still a thing. I tried to imagine a sleepwalking Dr. Strand, with his eyes closed and clearly asleep, yet still awake enough to open our hotel door and walk out… it's too surreal to even envision properly.

_"No, I haven't. I mean, I saw you get up and leave earlier last night, but I thought you were awake. Why?"_

_"...well…"_

With a glance in the general direction of his issue, Strand closed his eyes, clutched at his right arm's long shirt sleeve hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He winced, held his breath, and huffed a sigh, as if surrendering to his fate. In one long and agonising motion, he lifted that sleeve to reveal a… the best string of words to describe the sight that I can think of is… a red series of scars that resemble the silhouette of a twisted hand? Or, a handprint of cauterized skin? Yeah, that's the best I can do.

_"Oh...my_ **_God_ ** _, Strand! What the Hell happened?!"_

_"It wasn't there when we were talking last night. I can't exactly say the specifics."_

_"Come here, sit down!"_

_[The presumed sounds of Strand doing so]_

_"Holy [CENSORED]... it, it looks fresh too… Does it hurt?!"_

_"Not that much right now. I woke up on the hallway to the rooftop on the verge of screaming from the agony, so that must've been when it happened. It's like I got carved up by Edward Scissorhands."_

_"And… you're absolutely sure this wasn't self inflicted?"_

_"This can't be self inflicted. Why would I do this to myself on purpose? It's just an accident."_

_"Then forget the Magnus Institute, let's take you to the hospital! That's gonna get infected if you don't get stitches!"_

_"There's no need, we're only gonna be here for three days. Can't risk screwing up our schedules for anything. This is too important."_

_"But--! Okay, okay, let's start over from step one… you said you were sleepwalking. How often does that happen?"_

Strand explained as calmly as he could. Apparently he sleepwalks very, very, rarely. The earliest date was most likely one of the days after Coralee disappeared, but he wasn't sure. A number of times that can be counted on one hand, annually, and the occurrence seems to cycle around the same times. It just so happened that his sleepwalking schedule lined up with this investigation. A sort of signal as to when "this time of the year" is coming back around: vividly lucid nightmares. 

With him hoping to avoid having me see him like that.

_"Do you ever accidentally injure yourself during this?"_

_"It's nothing more than a bruise or two, that's how I first realized this was happening. But nothing like whatever_ **_this_ ** _is, but even still, it's probably fine."_

_"Do the nightmares vary?"_

_"...no, it's more-or-less the same one, everytime."_

He started shifting in his seat a little more often when opening up about the nightmare he had last night, despite those nightmares never leaving physical effects.

_"It started after three, after our lengthy journey through the Magnus Institute's Yelp page. It was so seamless, I didn't even recognize that I was asleep for a minute there. It started with someone knocking on the hotel door, I tried to tell you not answer it but you didn't notice. The door knocked again and I tried to ignore it, I knew I locked it, so they wouldn't be able to get in if there really was someone there. Cue a third round of knocking, and the door opening by itself. That's when I knew that this was a dream."_

It was agreed that the majority of Strand's testimony wouldn't be shown in full, however, he let me offer you guys a summary: 

In every one of his lucid nightmares, there's a door that knocks thrice and opens by itself. When getting up and checking the door - a paramount event that takes place whether he wants to or not - Strand is met with a hallway that he has never seen in reality: one where the walls are covered in a green swirling pattern, sometimes it's wallpaper, other times it's purely painted, once he swore it was animal fur. The shade of green varies but forest green seems most common. The floor was carpeted...but only sometimes, eight times out of ten: it's pitch black hardwood with a dingy yellow strip of carpet, like Hollywood's red carpet, but even worse. Strand seemed particularly transfixed with the electric lamps, divided by ten feet or so, noting that they changed in style every time, as well as how much light they'd actually provide. Twice they left him completely in the dark, both times he woke up screaming.

On the walls were...a number of things that seem completely random: empty picture frames, mirrors, paintings of either fruit or corpses, screenshots from his Black Tapes, the photo of his wedding day, a warped or vandalized version of his wedding photo, Charle's baby pictures, Charlie's baby pictures featuring someone else's child, pictures of the hallway from different "camera angles'', old family photos, a picture of _me_ , anything goes. A few times there was a painting of the man who Coralee cheated on him with, and… Strand vividly remembers a version that had Coralee right next to him, he swore that he could hear them sneering. Which is how he shattered the painting he had in his office, before replacing it with the one he has now.

A few times, some of his White Tapes were hanging from the ceiling, suspended on monochrome string. Messages like: _"are you sure?", "don't forget about me!",_ and, _"want to try again?"_ were written in a "spirally style", or as best as he could describe it. Though he couldn't tell if he was even dreaming or not, he once found a lemon on the floor, written on the back of it - in that same spirally style - were the words _"what you remind me of"_ with a heart carved into it. After taking that one phrase a little too literally, Strand went on to make lemonade with it. No matter how much sugar he added it was still so horribly sour, so he figured he must've still been dreaming.

But the worst part, he recounted, was the impossible layout of the hallway itself. Twisting corridors, corners sharp enough to slice a finger, doors that open to voids, deadends where the only way to go on is inside the hallway painting, the feeling of never getting exhausted no matter how far he walks or runs down a hallway that never wants to end. It's like reality was being torn at the seams and actively toying with him with a sadistic finesse… and the person that always seems to be there right when he's at his limit with the nightmare's twisty-turny nonsense. In his own words:

_"I blame you for this…"_

_"...what? Why?"_

_"This is a fictional character that my own sleep-awake mind conjured up, and not once - not even when I asked - has it given a name. But since you started making up people right as I was dozing off, it must've stuck in my head and now the character in my dreams has adopted it."_

_"But… shouldn't that be a good thing? You can identify them now."_

_"I don't believe in dream interpreters."_

_"Which name did they go with, Micheal or Helen?"_

_"...[resigned sigh] both."_

In the hallway labyrinth, Strand doesn't always find this person, but somehow that person always finds him. We'll use the name Helen, for the sake of our sanities. According to him, Helen is more likely to show up if he gets desperate for the dream to end and starts running like mad. Right when Strand is on the verge of snapping, Helen appears. From him, directly looking at Helen makes him horribly dizzy - especially when attempting eye contact - so the main description he was able to give was Helen's extremely long swirling hair, hellishly sharp claw-nails, Helen's height varies but seems to enjoy being even taller than him, and he thinks that Helen has a very, very wide smile with a mouth filled with way too many sharp teeth.

Last night's encounter with Helen was much the same, he said. Strand was teetering on the edge of another dead end door-void, when Helen "materialized" right at his side and startled him pretty bad. When he fell it turned out that it was just a shallow dip in the carpet, which had turned into a pool of slippery warm ice. Helen's laughter was something that rang in his ears and made him lose the strength in his legs. Unable to move, lightheaded, and admittedly "unnerved", Strand was essentially trapped. 

Helen then came to tell him - in this echoing, "revolving" voice - that 

_"Your Journalist was half-right, my name is Micheal and it is Helen Richardson"_

In the ditch, Helen tried to take his hand but Strand struggled away, causing Helen to grip down a bit too hard and slice him. As Strand started passing out (or passing back in?) Helen leaned in - as if to possibly kiss him, he thought - and asked, 

_"Richard Richardson… would you like that name?"_

And then he woke up, out of breath, drenched in a cold sweat, ears ringing, unsure of where he was, and with a newly scarred arm.

The subconscious of Dr. Richard Strand is one Hell of a place, isn't it?

_"So…Helen did it?"_

_"No. I probably just badly cut myself on something I ran into. A window, vase, or something."_

_"Seriously Dr. Strand!? You said that Helen has claw-nails, she grabbed your arm, and that scar looks like a twisted hand!"_

_"That's just your apophenia talking. It's just a particularily bad sleepwalk nightmare that made me slip and cut myself on pure accident. You're overreacting, and we need to calm down. We have to leave soon--"_

_[Laptop opens, keyboard-presses]_

_"We still have time, I have an idea."_

The biggest known person named Micheal Richardson is an American actor who Strand couldn't care less about, with the added fact that Strand hasn't been to the movies since Charlie disowned him, it is very unlikely that he's ever seen Mr. Richardson from a movie and accidentally incorporated him into his nightmares. Plus the mental image Strand provided of his Micheal Richardson was nothing like the actor's appearance, the nightmare-Micheal's British accent only further divided them.

_[Keyboard noises continue]_

_"Alright now, let's try for any British Helen Richardsons…"_

_[Strand clasps his hand over Alex's, keyboard sounds stop]_

_"Alex what do you think you're doing?"_

_"Trying to find a correlation, of sorts. Where I thought of the names, and who your nightmare versions are based off."_

_"What good is that going to do? Dreams are incoherent and nonsensical, seemingly by design. But I understand your want to try. The thing is however, you can't prove a negative, and you can't find evidence of a dream. It's a complete fool's errand, Alex."_

_"But, wasn't there someone who submitted their dreams to the Magnus Institute, completely breaking their No Dream rule, and it actually turned out to bare fruit?"_

_"I have no idea what you're even talking about anymore. Besides I'd_ **_never_ ** _submit_ **_anything_ ** _to those snake oil cultists no matter what delusions I'd fallen victim to. Now--"_

_[Strand must've noticed either the wall-mounted analog or the laptop's internal clock]_

_"[Irritated tongue click] We're cutting it close, sorry but we can talk this over later, I promise."_

_[The shuffling of bags and hurried footsteps fade as a door is opened]_

_"Come on, nothing good happens if you rush… oh goddamnit Strand…"_

_[After a second of fumbling, the recorder clicks off]_

With all this new insight into Strand's own sleep-based issues, I thought the near-panic attack and enigmatic transcript that confused and concerned me so much in our first part actually made sense. Half of me wanted to believe that Strand just sleep-wrote it. If sleepwalkers can drive and water their garden, then writing a document their waking-self could really find useful seems on the table, doesn't it? Maybe he was awake enough at the start given how _Strand-like_ it was, but given the… sorry, _spiral into insanity_ it went down over the course of it's 23 pages, it just makes the most sense. Especially when the sleepwalker potentially has a deep trauma involved with their condition, it's not too far to suggest that recurrent episodes could make them hallucinate about the contents of their nightmares, like swirling handwriting and teleporting doors.

Yet, the other half told me that Strand was just scared and trying to ease his own fear by telling me everything that he was trying to convince himself of. Nightmares are just dreams that manifest our fears, and someone as down-to-earth as him _would_ be afraid of the world not being right, or of a simple hallway that just keeps stretching on forever and cutting off at absurd directions. Just like the last time I… **knew** or figured, or guessed… that Strand was possibly scared the last time, when we were first digging into the Stoker disappearance case. Both times it's like I can see just a _little_ clearer, like a really light fog had lifted and you only noticed that it was there in hindsight, or I could visualize whatever mask he wears starting to slip… God that makes me sound like one of the Eyes…

I still don't know which way I lean.

The actual indoors of the Magnus Institute, starting with the front desk lobby - was a lot more professional and put-together that what the word "cult" makes me think of, it really did just look like a regular office building with a minimalist style of furniture placement and real potted plants that look dearly tended to. The dress code seemed so strict that it made me double-guess if there wasn't a genuine uniform policy in place. Fittingly enough, the logo for Magnus was of a stylized wide-eyed, crown-wearing owl, surrounded by simple eyes and repeated latin that I couldn't spell right for the life of me.

_"Audio, Viligo, Opperior. Listening, Observing, Awaiting."_

Thankfully Strand was able to both resite and translate with very practiced ease. This must've been what tipped him off on the whole cult idea to begin with, cause I'll admit, that's at the very least a solid **eight** on the good ol' Cult-O-Meter, as far as slogans are concerned. 

At the receptionist's desk, we were greeted by a vibrant and youthful early-to-mid 20's woman, her name tag simply read "Rosie", no surname to be gleamed.

_"Good morning to you both, and welcome to the Magnus Institute! Here we document and investigate the reported first-hand sightings and encounters that us everyday folk have with the paranormal and otherworldly. Are you here to make a Statement?"_

Now a quick confession: Rosie was _cute_ . The light in her large brown eyes shone with what seemed like genuine enthusiasm and belief that the Magnus Institute was doing the UK a good service. Though her roots made way for her natural black hair, the rest of it's long straight-edged length was dyed a rose red, it complimented her fair complexion and sprinkled peppering of freckles that lined across her face quite nicely. She didn't seem the type to work in a haunted office like this at all, yet the signifying badge on her forest green jacket had the same crowned owl that every employee here shared, the silver latin lettering glistened in the light: _Listening, Observing, Awaiting._

_"Good morning Mrs. Rosie, my name is Dr. Richard Strand and this is Journalist Alex Reagan. We're here on business to interview the Head Archivist of this place, Mr. Jonathan--"_

_"--Sims? Yes, he's expecting you two in Statement-Recording Room #47."_

_"Ah, so he's been notified."_

_"No, he notified_ **_me_ ** _that you'd be here today, at this time in fact."_

_"...I see."_

The look on Strand's face was just dying to add a snarky '...because _that's_ not creepy at all.'

_"I could escort you there if you want."_

Though we both know that Strand spent, probably too much time, looking into this Institute and likely knew the layout from sheer repetition, he agreed to let Rosie guide us there. While making sure that himself and I stayed a fair few steps behind. Rosie asked us in a pretty concerned tone about why we wanted to see Mr. Sims, and wondering to herself about just what kind of trouble he's caused now. Great addition to your track record when the first thing someone knows you for is your involvement in a suicide bombing.

_"We're looking into an incident that involved this Institute and were hoping to get his point of view, both sides are important after all, right Dr. Strand?"_

_"Yeah, that's right..."_

_"You two are going to have to be more specific, if this is about the worm infestation from a few years ago then, I'm sorry but there's not much he's going to be able to provide, we passed this year's health inspection with flying colours."_

_"Well, Alex and I are primarily investigating an incident from August 7th 2017. Does that date sound familiar to you?"_

_"Not off-hand, I'm afraid."_

_"That's alright, this was also from a while ago, I understand."_

As we three walked past busy employees and malfunctioning printer networks, we made it to the elevator and were ascending to the 5th floor, Rosie seemed less like an active hand in the Institute's ulterior motive and more like a young receptionist who was blissfully unaware that anything was amiss in this building at all, she didn't seem _stupid_ -not at all! - more like someone has kept a very tight lid on what those out of the loop can find out about. Though, that might've been my inner Strand talking.

_"So if I may ask, what exactly is this for? It's not everyday visitors come looking to interview an employee, especially when it's Mr. Sims."_

_"Oh we're doing this for our po--"_

_"Publication. We're starting a new online news publication, about paranormal topics and their validity."_

_"Oh! Well, let me know if you're in need of sponsorships! I'm sure that Mr. Lukas would be willing to support your endeavors."_

Even if I knew what he was doing, I couldn't get why. The existence of our Black Tapes Podcast is why he wanted to break this story to begin with, to expose the Magnus Institute and… I dunno get revenge on something that never personally slighted him to at all? Why bother lying when we likely have British viewers right alongside our native American audience? It could've been a case of doing as the Romans do and matching an academic Institute with a professional publication so as to not seem out of place, but in that case just use your own Strand Institute and be honest!

_《Maybe he was just trying to pull some espionage.》_

_《Nic, if there's anything that Strand is, he is not a spy.》_

_《Well, you could be wrong. Have you asked him why he lied yet?》_

_《Not yet, he's still sick, and has been since we got back. But when I visit him, I will.》_

_《"Still"... hope he hasn't sleepwalked long enough to elope with Helen...》_

_《Nic, c'mon!》_

_《Kidding, of course I'm kidding!!》_

_《And of course I know! ...he's gonna have our heads on a silver platter though.》_

_《Oh don't worry, we're not uploading these til it's finished.》_

_《Hm! So we're stalling!》_

_《Yup!》_

Well, no matter the reason why, Rosie took the bait and proceeded to lead us through the rows of wide, curtained indoor windows, inside were the silhouettes of Statement Givers and Magnus interviewers alike. Muffled conversations about this UPS driver's encounter with a mailbox that vomited up blood, that time a stay-at-home wife woke up from a coffin, these other times where a former news reporter saw fire pouring out of the sky when it was supposed to rain… all sorts of stories circulated endlessly and blended into a special kind of background noise. 

As evident from the beads of sweat that dotted his cheek and the way he tried to keep himself from trembling, Strand was getting more than a little stressed for every step deeper we went into the Institute. Caught between tension, agitation, and something else I couldn't identify, Strand was clearly the most uncomfortable out of us three and really had to choke down his panic to be seen as he presented as we went down that hallway.

Though Rosie didn't seem to notice as she continued guiding us, I couldn't shake Strand's own neurosis from my mind. It was like that fog analogy I used, but this time, it was pouring this piercingly freezing rain. I didn't even notice until he reacted, but it was the only impulsive thing I thought to do to make him feel better. I reached out and took his hand in my own. Strand's hand was clammy and he flinched, but whatever torrent of negativity in his head had quieted, and that in turn lifted the fog from my own mind.

_"You alright now…?"_

_"...hm."_

I won't tell if he squeezed my hand back or not.

Soon though, we made it to room #47. The blurred and shadowy silhouette on that couch was barely humanoid from how the bright scenery outside the window bathed the man within.

_"Here's #47, and there's Mr. Jonathan Sims. I'll remain out here a little longer in case you need assistance."_

_"Thank you Mrs. Rosie, but there's no need, Dr. Strand and I will be fine."_

_"Well… alright. Even still, please don't hesitate to ask for help should anything come up."_

With a smile and a wave, Rosie walked back but without showing her hesitation in actually doing so. Strand entered the room before me and when he disappeared behind the frosted glass, Rosie turned back and gave to me a double thumbs up and a wink, clearly having noticed my earlier stunt. I heard her barely whisper a wish for good luck. If you're listening to this when it's uploaded Rosie, thanks, but [shy laughter], ah I have _no_ idea what you're wishing me luck for, hah...

Anyway! The Statement-Recording Room had that same minimalist vibe as the rest of the building: with a low glass table in the center holding a small vase of flowers, sky blue couches on the farthest right wall proportional to the window overlooking (heh) the outside and left-of-center, and two shelves in the leftmost corner. Seated in the left couch - calmly arranging his documents and files across the table's glass surface - is Dr. Strand, who only showed an **_ice cold_** **_intent_** like a sniper lining his sights on his sworn enemy. On his parallel side, with his body language exuding a depressed patience and eyes contently closed as if asleep, was none other than Head _"Archivist"_ Jonathan Sims. You couldn't cut the tension with a knife, you'd need a chainsaw.

_"Hello Miss Reagan, Dr. Strand. It's nice to meet you, just wish it could've been under better circumstances."_

With us finally being face-to-face with this man who is responsible for many bad reviews, this paranoid stalker who survived a bombing that he himself helped bring about, this potential Eye God worshipping cultist who the receptionist felt the need to warn two overseas visitors about…

_"Mr. Sims."_

_"Dr. Strand."_

_"Do you know_ **_exactly_ ** _why we're here?"_

_"Yes I do."_

…I took in just how terrible he looked, in the kind of way that suggests he went through Hell. Permanent scars from the infestation, eye bags that seem like they came from a lifetime of insomnia, the half-faded burn on his hand and the plethora of other little scrapes that peppered his appearance, this man must've had an entire mythology behind him that we just didn't have time to fully dive into. Yet, he dressed as properly as I'm sure he could, maybe even more so than the uniform's dress code required.

_"You know we're not here to give one of your little 'Statements',"_

_"I know full well."_

_"...and Alex and I have our own much better equipment of much higher quality."_

_"Yes."_

_"So what's with your ancient tape recorder, and why is it on?"_

_"They show up and turn on by themselves."_

Under a head of stylishly unkempt hair - interlaced with greys - was an utterly mirthless smile, devoid of light and no concept of hope to be found. With his eyes - however weathered - being the single most striking quality of him. They had a harsh sharpness that could make a person feel as if he were staring straight **_through_ ** them, right past any facade or protective wall they happen to employ, and into their true selves… if he just concentrated hard enough.

_"When I walked in here I expected you to be completely honest with me."_

_"And I am."_

_"Then tell me why your recorder is really here."_

_"It just showed up, it popped into existence on its own. That happens a lot around here, if you need a second opinion then go ask Elias."_

_"Oh I will. But fine. I'll tolerate your box for the moment. Now let's begin."_

_"[small resigned sigh] ...yes, let's."_

  
  


The interview is coming up after the break. I’m Alex Reagan, it’s the Black Tapes Podcast. Stay with us.

[Musical Interlude]

…

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A man by the name of Dan Powell was last seen travelling to his then-new place of work as the Archivist of the Housing Historical Committee of New York State, he first disappeared on April 6th and despite attempts to contact him, Mr. Powell seems to have left Mr. Sollinger with a series of cassette tapes that Mr. Sollinger chooses to release to the public in the hopes that doing so will raise awareness of Mr. Powell's disappearance. If you or anyone you know have any information on the whereabouts of Dan Powell or any information pertaining to the New York State's Historical Housing Committee, please contact Mark Sollinger at [ www.archive81.com ](http://www.archive81.com) or look up Archive 81 on [ Spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/show/2jyRVoDZxyNzilVdmq7U3B?nd=1) , [ Apple Podcast ](https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/archive-81/id1098194172) , [ Soundcloud ](https://m.soundcloud.com/archive81/episode-1-a-body-in-a-new-place) , or wherever your podcasts are typically located. Follow [ @Archive81 ](https://twitter.com/Archive81?s=09) on Twitter for the latest updates on the case. 

This has been a personally requested ad by Mr. Mark Sollinger. 

Thank you.

…

[Musical Interlude]

Welcome back to the Black Tapes Podcast, I'm Alex Reagan.

Small introductory comments were made between the two, with Strand being honest about the Black Tapes and Jonathan inviting us to simply call him "Jon" as the formality was making him uncomfortable. I obviously compromised, but Strand refused. It was decided that I would be stationed as the moderator since Strand was too deep in his below-zero degree hatred to consider backing off on his own, and Jonathan must've felt more intimidated than his equally cold demeanor let on, as he encouraged the idea.

After giving a quick run-down of how our show operates, Jonathan softly chuckled at that.

_"Sounds a bit close to what I used to do over here. The million and one fake Statements can be recorded digitally, shipped off somewhere, and promptly remembered as another mindless span of time and energy that you'll never get back. As another one of your White Tapes. But those Black Tapes of yours - Dr. Strand, Miss Reagan - those have a different "feel" to them, don't they?"_

_"They're just as fake as the others Mr. Sims, I assure you."_

_"I mean, given that you even had_ _them hidden, they naturally would **feel** different, I think." _

_"Not 'hidden' Alex, I just needed a place to put them. Don't think I'm ashamed of them."_

_"Melanie can relate to that too, she had an internet ghost show… she told me about it in her first Statement."_

_"And you recruited_ **_her_ ** _too in the end, didn't you?"_

_"No. She may have hated this place, but she joined of her own accord. I can even send you the specific tape it happened in, if you don't believe me."_

_"No, I'd rather not go digging through your library of stalker records."_

_"Dr. Strand!"_

_"What?"_

_"[nervous chuckle] No, no, it's-it's perfectly fine Miss Reagan… he's right…"_

_"See?"_

_"B-But, Dr. Strand, can't you calm down?"_

_"I'm perfectly calm, Alex. It's not like I'm gonna jump this table and_ _strangle_ _him..."_

_"Erm…"_

_"Then don't threaten to! And don't say you were joking because I_ **_know_ ** _you weren't!"_

_"..."_

_"Don't look at me like that!"_

_"Please, please calm down you two. Let's just settle down on all sides okay…?"_

So much for me being the moderator, sorry Jonathan.

_"Fine. But can we get to the main topic now?"_

_"Which one?"_

_"Let's start with your involvement in the House of Wax bombing, shall we?"_

_"...alright."_

There wasn't a flinch or gasp out of Jonathan as Strand shuffled through his articles to pick out a few of them to almost throw at the forlorn Archivist, the unstapled ones fluttered as pages hit the carpet. Jonathan's eyes didn't follow any one in particular, but they seemed to take them all in, why I saw that is because…

_"Do these look familiar?"_

_"Not at all. These were written way before I woke up. My coma was a total of six months."_

_"Take a second to read them, you can even do so out loud if it pleases your magical little dust recorder."_

_"Don't need to."_

_"So you won't feign ignorance or you won't read them?"_

_"No, I won't… and no, I read them all just now."_

_"...you're kidding again."_

_"No Dr. Strand, watch… [slow inhale]"_

Now, I'm forced to only paraphrase what happened next. Right before our eyes, recorded all on tape, Jonathan recited each of the articles Strand threw at him at such a rapid speed that he gives Bust-a-Rhymes a run for his money. From headline to the list of sources, word for word, with differing inflections in his voice to indicate when someone was being quoted or when the given reporter gave an opinion, Jonathan proved himself to be _THE_ Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

_[Jonathan Sims reciting the New York Times' 'Four Employees of London-based Magnus Institute Commit Potential Terrorist Bombing on Great Yarmouth's House of Wax Museum' article plays in the background]_

_《Holy [CENSORED] [CENSORED] Alex!! Listen to him GO!》_

_《I know right!? God! I really wish you would've been there, if only just to see the look on our faces! Strand's especially! Oh my God I thought he was gonna_ **_faint_ ** _!》_

_《I wouldn't be surprised if he really did either! I'm getting lightheaded just listening to this!》_

_[Jonathan Sims's reciting continues to the NBC's 'House of Wax Museum in UK Explodes in Suspected Terrorist Attack' article in same breath]_

_《And he's_ **_still going_ ** _! What the actual [CENSORED]!?》_

_《And this goes on for a while!》_

For little more than thirteen minutes to be exact! It was only when Jonathan had read them all when he finally stopped and left us all frozen in a thick cover of pure silence. I didn't want to start applauding for fear that I'd startle Strand. Who - by the way - wasn't able to ease off his bewilderment fast enough for me not to notice when he revered back to his poker face.

_"So your colleagues gave you copies of these articles and you memorized them just for this parlor trick. Impressive, **Archivist**." _

_"No seriously… I only wanted to give you proof that I read them all… right then. [coughing]"_

_[Wheezing and deep breathing]_

_"Jonathan, are you alright!?"_

_"Y-yes…! Fine! I've never done… that before, and I'm never gonna do it again…"_

_"Now if you could stop avoiding the issue--"_

_"Dr. Strand-!"_

_"Fine."_

_"You're… gonna think this sounds crazy but…"_

_"That's nothing new, go on."_

_"But, it's true! We managed to save the world… from an irreparable change… it would've been an apocalypse!"_

Either Jonathan's speedreading was just a trick to charm us into believing his cult's story that the House of Wax had a doomsday device, or he was telling **the** truth without a single compromise. At a glance, I saw Strand's eyes glaze over into ocean blue abysses as Jonathan rambled on all the changes the world would have suffered if "they" weren't stopped. The temptation to call this entire investigation a complete waste was written all over his face, and if I let the beat of silence carry on any further, I'd be dragged out of this building either by persuasion or by force. So I acted as fast as I could,

_"Did the House of Wax have something to do with an organization or alliance called--"_

_"--The Stranger? From Tim's… suicide note? Yes, it did."_

_"Oh! So you read it?"_

_"I saw the contents, technically."_

_"Right… a-and what exactly was he talking about? We were kinda stumped at that part."_

_"Elias is better equipped to answer that to Dr. Strand. But the gist is… we at the Magnus Institute serve under The Eye, whether we know it or not. The Beholding, The Ceaseless Watcher, Don't-Look-At-Me-Like-That, it has many names. It's the fear of being exposed, the fear of being stalked, the fear of knowing too much… it's the only Phobia that doesn't_ **_do_ ** _anything, it just watches, and by Elias's command, we do the same. We watch, whether we want to or not."_

_"Hmm. That is interesting! So The Stranger is another one of these… Phobias? Is that like the 'Stranger Danger' rule all our Moms told us as kids?"_

_"Yes! But it covers more than just that!"_

_[In a hushed tone of gritted teeth]_

_"Alex don't get suckered into this garbage…"_

_[Same as Strand's tone]_

_"Its useful insight, Dr. Strand!"_

_"Spare me, I'm begging you."_

_"The Stranger or I-Do-Not-Know-You mainly deals with the Uncanny Valley phenomenon, things that are_ _almost_ _human but really creepy in how they barely miss the mark, the feeling that things aren't right, and it's the fear of the unknown. Typical manifestations are dolls, mannequins, clowns - from their face paint I presume, circuses and carnivals."_

_"And The Eye and The Stranger are enemies?"_

_"Riveting, now can we just…"_

_"Yes, they're enemies with your Phobia too, Dr. Strand: The Spiral."_

_"Keep me_ **_out_ ** _of your Homebrew D &D setting, Mr. Sims." _

_"Actually, no, no! Keep going please, what's The Spiral?"_

_"Alex, for God's sake…!"_

_"You agreed that there was a Spiral cult, don't be mad that I'm right."_

_"You only asked what the theme of spirals could mean in the context of a cult, I didn't_ **_agree_ ** _with anything!"_

_"Uh, you two…"_

_"Oh! Uh, sorry, Jonathan! We're sorry!"_

_"She is, I'm not."_

_"No, it's okay, actually this, this may be good. I can prove multiple things to you both."_

_"Oh here we go."_

_"...sorry Jonathan, keep going. What evidence do you have?"_

_"Well…"_

Jonathan then went on to elaborate on what it means to be betrothed to "The Eye". The Archives of the Magnus Institute is supposedly filled with Statements that can only be recorded through a dusty old tape recorder like the one on the table in front of us. He didn't think about it much at first but these Phobias are such a constant theme that you can categorize which Phobia the Statement Giver had fallen victim to just from the particular _keywords_ or _themes_ of each one. Going through so many 'real' Statements is how Jonathan came to realize that the Phobias "exist". According to him, there are these "Avatars" who fall victim to a Phobia at a young age and grow to develop powers based on which Phobia haunted them way back when they were most vulnerable. As Jonathan claims to be a victim or "Avatar of The Eye" just as Bouchard is and Robinson was, he supposedly can command people to answer his questions honestly. Another power he has is to **_know_ ** things that just pop into his head… the same thing that happened to me more often than not now. And I'll admit, even if this is all one big story, then it's a damn good one. Even if Strand looked like he had checked all the way out of this conversation.

_"You think you're psychic?"_

_"Well… I wouldn't use that exact term, it's not like I can see the future or make things levitate."_

_"It's the same thing, you're nothing but another cold-reading con-artist. You even look like one."_

It should've been a warning sign for Strand to go for an ad hominem.

_"But it's true, Dr. Strand!"_

_"So basically this [CENSORED] misuse of the word 'Institute' is nothing but a LARPing ground for paranoid stalkers with a shared eyeball-licking fetish to carry out their wildest Homebrew Lovecraft campaign fantasies. Because God forbid you play a game that doesn't involve gaining access to bomb material and killing your coworkers."_

_"Dr. Strand?"_

_"What?"_

_"I'll prove to you that I'm telling the truth now. Don't get too angry at this okay?"_

_"No promises."_

_[The couch cushions squeak as Alex motions to hold Strand's hand.]_

_"...fine. I won't get_ **_too_ ** _angry. Go."_

_"_ **_Do you know someone named Helen Richardson?_ ** _"_

_"_ _Yes, I see her in my sleepwalking nightmares every year around this time._ _"_

_[...]_

_"_ **_Wha_ ** _\--?!"_

_"Did that seriously just happen…?"_

_《Alex… what the Hell was that static? Was that on our end?》_

_《Nope, I rewound and replayed that part through every audio editing software we have and it has to be them.》_

_《What about that 'ancient tape recorder' on the desk? Maybe there was interference?》_

_《...maybe?》_

_"Dr. Strand? Are you alright? Oh God, I went too far. Please, I am_ **_so_ ** _sorry!"_

No matter how much Jonathan apologized, Strand just stayed frozen there. If I focused on my grip on his hand, it's almost like I could hear his thoughts. Something he's only managed to confide in me with just that _morning_ , his sleepwalking and nightmares, had just gotten exposed by someone from the Institute that **_he_ ** wanted to expose to begin with! And it was then that I realized that I was on the right track in looking for a British Helen Richardson, and I was likely right about Strand sleep-writing his transcript. The questions became then: Who is Helen Richardson, really? And what is The Spiral Phobia cult?

_"Goddamnit that's it."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Alex let's not waste any more time here, I should've known better than to expect an admitted serial stalker to give us privacy and NOT act like a breathing piece of Spyware."_

_"Dr. Strand calm down! Don't you want to know how the articles got deleted!?"_

_"I'll ask Bouchard."_

Jonathan could only sigh as Strand got up.

_"...I knew you wouldn't understand."_

_"And I'm very glad that I don't."_

_"But you will."_

_"Say that again for the rest of the class Mr. Sims…?"_

_"Guys, guys, c'mon relax!"_

_"You're going to understand everything once you meet Elias. And you're going to believe me…"_

_"Excuse me…!?"_

_"_ **_...but you're never going to admit it_ ** _."_

_"Are you so indebted to that murderous jackass of a cult leader that you genuinely can't see how many people you kil--?!"_

_"_ **_RICHARD!_ ** _"_

_"_ _Yeah, Alex?_ _"_

_[...]_

_《Static again? The recorder must be starting to die...》_

_《Hey Nic.》_

_《What's up?》_

_《Don't call me crazy when I ask this…but...》_

_《...you believe Jonathan's story.》_

_《I wasn't gonna ask that, just…_ **_what if_ ** _it were true?》_

_《Then this static would make sense, so would the debacle with his transcript, and the nightmares, that hallucination…》_

_《...and Helen Richardson as this kind of nightmare demon would be real, as would the method on how she scarred him.》_

_《But do you believe it?》_

_《...》_

Strand seemed confused, that after calling him, neither Jonathan nor I were willing to say what we wanted. He stood there looking between the two of us for a solid minute, genuinely confused and seemingly unable to notice that I… accidentally, _maybe_ commanded his attention against either of our wills. I apologized, saying that I just forgot what I wanted and Jonathan assisted me in picking up Strand's articles before letting my skeptical friend awkwardly excuse himself to go interrogate Bouchard. The awkwardness lifted a shade or two once the door closed and Jonathan and I were left to stare at each other, trying to process how the Hell I may or may not have done that. Then I asked Jonathan a few rapid fire questions.

_"Hey Jonathan?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"How did the articles about the bombing disappear?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"What is The Spiral?"_

_"The fear of madness, the fear of being deceived, the fear of losing one's sanity, the fear that the world is going mad."_

_"That sounds like Dr. Strand."_

_"Honestly it does. The Spiral is also called Es Mentiras - translated as "It's a lie" - or It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. The only Spiral Avatar I know is…"_

_"Helen Richardson?"_

_"...yep. The Distortion. She controls a pocket dimension consisting of an ever-changing hallway, there's few Statements about it. Helen actually came here to make a Statement, back when the Entity Known as Micheal was The Distortion."_

_"That's a can of worms."_

_"I know right?"_

_[...]_

_"Hey Miss Reagan."_

_"Hmm?"_

_"The Archives isn't open to the public but, I could give you a tour if you want."_

_"Are you trying to get fired?"_

_"Tim said that I should've been kicked years ago. So long as I'm the Archivist, I can't be fired."_

_"In that case, sure! Lead the way!"_

_"Alright!"_

Next week, I will take you on an exclusive pseudo-journey through the typically inaccessible Magnus Archives, stay tuned till then, and don't worry about the sudden bits of trivia that you're suddenly remembering from hearing me mention that it still exists somewhere in your head!

**.**

**.**

**.**

_The Black Tapes Podcast_ is a Pacific Northwest Stories and Minnow Beats Whale production. Recorded in Seattle and Vancouver. Produced by Nic Silver. Mixed and engineered by Nic Silver and Alan Williams. Edited by Nic Silver and Alex Reagan. Executive producers Paul Bay and Terry Miles.

Thank you so much for listening to _The Black Tapes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strand really would be the perfect Spiral victim wouldn't he?  
> Anyway, Chapter 3 is something I'm kinda proud of, I hope you'll come back for it.  
> But even if you don't thank you for reading!


	3. Dream Logic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a different place, two opposites attract conflict.
> 
> Statement of Dr. Richard Strand regarding his interview with Elias Bouchard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the interaction that made me want to write this fic to begin with. I'm really hoping that I did them both justice. Hope you enjoy!

####  **THE WRITER**

Hey everyone, Scythe_of_Starlight here. I would just like to take a moment to say that according to the Print Layout, this Chapter marks the beginning of the **49th page** . I just want to be the first to confirm that this is bullshit. Total bullshit. In high school I clearly remember being on the verge of death writing 17 pages for the Grapes of Wrath. There's no way on this dirt rock floating in the goddamn Milky Way that I wrote **FORTY NINE PAGES** of anything. Let alone a fanfiction crossing over two paranormal podcasts that I wrote for fun.

I refuse to believe a word of it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy today's "episode".

#### .

**[Opening ambiance and cello]**

####  **Rusty Quill (technically) Presents...**

####  **The Magnus Archives**

####  **Episode Unknown**

####  **Dream Logic**

#### .

#### .

#### .

  
  


#####  **[CLICK]**

**[INT. ELIAS' JAIL CELL]**

#####  **[DISTANT AND MUFFLED SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS APPROACHIN** **G]**

####  **ELIAS**

Oh, finally.

#####  **[LOCKS OF THE PRISON DOOR ARE STRUGGLED WITH]**

**[SLOWLY, THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN]**

**GUARD**

Get up. You got another one.

**ELIAS**

Yes, yes, I already know.

**[CLICK]**

**.**

**[CLICK]**

**[INT. PRISON INTERROGATION ROOM]**

**[IRON DOOR OPENS]**

**GUARD**

Here he is, our model prisoner: Elias Bouchard.

**DR. STRAND**

Thank you, sir.

**GUARD**

Be careful with this one, Mr. Strand. Manipulative son-of-a-bitch.

**DR. STRAND**

Oh I'm well aware, very much so.

**ELIAS**

As your model prisoner, I'm taking that as a compliment.

**GUARD**

...don't let him worm his way in your head. 20 minutes.

**DR. STRAND**

I won't, trust me. Thanks again.

**[STATIC]**

**ELIAS**

**_Now leave._ **

**[WITHOUT WORDS, THE PRISON GUARD LEAVES, CLOSING THE CREAKING DOOR BEHIND HIM]**

**DR. STRAND**

_(disgusted huff)_ You inmates must have fun running the asylum, huh… you and the ancient recorder you should be beaten for possessing...

**ELIAS**

Please, Dr. Richard Strand, there's no need for such hostility. You asked to speak with me, and here I am, so let's do our parts to keep this as civil as possible.

**DR. STRAND**

Okay Mr. Convicted Murderer, let's be civil and start this off properly.

**[SOUND OF FILES AND DOCUMENTS BEING SPREAD ACROSS THE TABLE]**

**DR. STRAND**

Your former Head Archivist - Jonathan Sims has confirmed that you orchestrated the House of Wax terrorist bombing that three other members of your former Archival staff carried out on August 7th of 2017. This resulted in one missing person, one sustaining mild injuries, one comatose and in critical condition, and one death. Within a week into my investigation into the incident, every online article - in both the States and UK - was deleted on mass. My first question is this: who funds the Magnus Institute for you to afford such a lofty censorship scheme?

**ELIAS**

Well then! _(stifled chuckle)_ It's my personal belief that Mr. Peter Lukas would be able to answer that question better than I could, it's his family that funds my humble Institute, but in dealing with the erasure of information, that's on his half as well. I took no part in such an unforgivable thing. It's simply out of my jurisdiction.

**DR. STRAND**

And who exactly is Peter Lukas?

**ELIAS**

Someone you should go looking for if you're in need of Institutional funding. Though, good luck, he's currently even more unavailable than he usually is. If his sudden forgetfulness in when he agreed to visit me is any indication. It's been so _lonely_ without him.

**DR. STRAND**

So he's the one who--

**DR. STRAND**

That was a joke. He's never visited. Not even once. But in all seriousness, your Strand Institute can't survive if you keep going as you have. You should give the Lukas family a call, they'll be happy to assist so long as you leave them alone and tolerate their… eccentricities. Tell me, what even did happen to that million dollar prize you promised?

**DR. STRAND**

**It's fine.**

**E** **LIAS**

Of course, Dr. Strand, I apologize. Please, continue.

**DR. STRAND**

How did your Archival staff get the C4 they used in the attack?

**ELIAS**

From Gertrude Robinson's Anti-Ritual equipment.

**DR. STRAND**

…where did _she_ get the C4?

**ELIAS**

I don't know.

**DR. STRAND**

You - as her manager and murderer, doesn't know where she got hold of such a large amount of explosives?

**ELIAS**

That's right. She was very good at hiding things from me, you see. Maybe she did some _under-the-table favors_ for some Fire Freak. Perhaps she bribed a Webspinner with the secrets of their enemies. Or it could be that Gertrude made them from scratch. I just don't know.

**[MOMENTARY SILENCE]**

**DR. STRAND**

…this woman.

**[A PICTURE IS SLID OVER]**

**DR. STRAND**

Who and where is she?

**ELIAS**

Ah yes, Alice "Daisy" Tonner. A shame what happened to her. She was such a good dog.

**DR. STRAND**

Answer my question.

**ELIAS**

You wouldn't believe me even if I lied, so I'll just say that--

**[STRAND SLAMS HIS HAND ON THE IRON TABLE, GIVING AN AUDIBLE WINCE FROM THE PAIN TO HIS STILL-FRESHLY SCARRED ARM]**

**DR. STRAND**

I want the truth, and that's the only thing you'll give me. Tell me who Mrs. Tonner is to you and where she went.

**ELIAS**

Alice joined the Institute out of a desire to support Basira, she was enlisted in the House of Wax operation to act as the main fighter of the group. I don't know where she went during, however. As I wasn't there.

**DR. STRAND**

No wireless means of communication to spy on them with?

**ELIAS**

Unless you count my powers bestowed to me by The Eye, which I did use when I wasn't _preoccupied_ , then otherwise no. I'm not a spy Officer, I swear. By the way, are you quite alright? That little love-bite of yours isn't too painful is it?

**[BEAT]**

**DR. STRAND**

Let's continue.

**[ANOTHER PHOTOGRAPH IS SLID OVER]**

**DR. STRAND**

Basira Hussain next. Tell me who she was in your plans.

**ELIAS**

I only brought her - the Detective - along to get protected by Alice. Yet she also proved wise enough so that if Jon had fallen before her, she would have been perfectly able to do a better job than he could've, though that was a bit of an extreme scenario, no matter how much he disappointed me, Jon is still much too stubborn to let himself give up and die so stupidly.

**DR. STRAND**

She was a Police Detective? Some articles mentioned the theft of Gertrude Robinson's cassette tapes from when she was Head Archivist, were you grooming her to idolize Robinson and become Mr. Sims's apprentice?

**ELIAS**

No and no. Basira was just a regular police officer for the secretive Section 31 branch of British law enforcement, alongside Alice, where she made her first Statement to the Institute and met the Archivist. But at Jon's… pathetic pleading, she and her former Section 31 partner would spoon feed him tapes of Gertrude's from the police station's custody. Eventually giving him the whole damn collection as a means to never having to see him again. Meanwhile after she joined our Archives, she fell smitten with Gertrude during her private little binge sessions of Jon's recordings, all on her own. As for the Detective moniker, I just like to call her that.

**DR. STRAND**

That lines up with what I have about their former employment, at least. I'll be forced to take your word o "Section 31" though. Give me the date the cassette case happened.

**ELIAS**

September of 2016.

**DR. STRAND**

Why wasn't she and Tonner located and charged guilty for theft of police property, interfering with an ongoing investigation, and tampering with evidence? They should be rotting here right next to you.

**ELIAS**

Ah yes… why indeed Iconoclast…? Don't forget that Alice murdered _many_ people, and got away with it too, proving herself to be yet another blemish to the police's reputation. Melanie King has made multiple attempts at my life as well, but was never charged for any of them. If the Fear Entities don't exist then just how corrupt _is_ this city, do you wonder…?

**[BEAT]**

**[A THIRD PHOTO IS THROWN AND SLIDES]**

**DR. STRAND**

Jonathan Sims. Go.

**ELIAS**

Certainly. But would you look at this photo? _My_ Archivist. This must've been back when Tim still regarded him as a decent person to call himself friends with. My, how nostalgic.

**DR. STRAND**

Just tell me what his role in your "operation" was.

**ELIAS**

Right, right, of course. My Archivist was meant to lead the charge on the operation since its formation. He is _The Archivist_ at the end of the day, and I wanted some reassurance that he would be able to fend for himself once I've been arrested. Thus I forced him into the spotlight.

**DR. STRAND**

You **_planned_** to get taken in.

**ELIAS**

Not quite. I **_knew_ **I would be. The day, the time, the place, the amount of Officers, their names, even caught glimpses of their relationship statuses. So I made the proper adjustments and waited, in spite of Jon's childish attempts to veer off course. And down to the letter, each of my visions came to pass.

**DR. STRAND**

I didn't come here to be subjected to your crazy cult-talk, Bouchard. You make it sound like you're planning to have your puppets break you out or something. Just tell me the truth.

**ELIAS**

_[pity-tsking]_...see? You still don't believe me, even after telling nothing but the truth. I could've lied at any time I wished you know, in fact, are you sure that I'm even Elias Bouchard…?

**DR. STRAND**

Don't think you can weasleword your way out of this. **You** were arrested, every ounce of **your** information is on file, **you** are Elias Bouchard. Honest managers don't turn their workplace into an insane LARPfest. Mr. Sims believes everything you've groomed him to believing. Any idea how much it it hurt to hear him speak? He was like a sick puppy.

**ELIAS**

Personally I equate him more as being an adorable and overly-curious kitten, complete with nine lives, the eyes, and the potential to be the most annoying thing on planet Earth. But, that's interesting Dr. Strand. Twice now you've brought up the topic of grooming, is it just that you're still getting used to how we Senior Avatars do things around here or was that more of a Freudian Slip on your part? Surely you must relate to Jon on _some_ level in that regard.

**[LONGER BEAT]**

**[DOCUMENTS ARE SPREAD OUT]**

**DR. STRAND**

Timothy "Tim" Stoker. I have information that he had a brother who either went missing or passed away. There are also inferences that Tim came to the Magnus Institute in an attempt to search for what happened to him. Has he ever mentioned a man named Danny to you?

**ELIAS**

Not to me directly, but he reluctantly made a Statement regarding Danny and an incident under the Royal Opera House at Martin's request.

**DR. STRAND**

And if your Institute is the academic treasure trove of supernatural happenings that you and Sims claim, then Tim was likely convinced that Danny's "Statement" would be there, convincing him to initially join. Did he hold a grudge to any of your Archival staff before Robinson's murder?

**ELIAS**

Not before, no. He mostly seemed to be the highly-strung perfectionist type before meeting Martin - who primarily did Research with him if a different department weren't short on hands at the time. They became pretty good friends, Tim even felt loved enough to show his… jovial, less professional side more freely. Even formed a little social circle when Sasha and Jon joined Research as well.

**DR. STRAND**

So it really must have set in after. Is there any more information you could provide on any reason for him to emphasize his hatred for Sims and yourself like he did in this note? Or was he more of an overall misanthrope?

**ELIAS**

It didn't set in as hard as you're thinking, Dr. Strand, but in the years after Jon requested him to join the Archives once I promoted him… he conveniently forgot that he freely accepted, and instead forced the blame on Jon regardless of how fully human he was back then. Because he was there. Because he and I are allied with The Beholding. Because we are fated to do nothing but watch as those around us suffer and die. Tim held a deep hatred for the world and the monsters over how Danny was taken from him, not the _people_ within it _._ But after Jon refused to trust him, I _saw_ him sighing out smoke and dead embers… which is a classic early symptom of those who inevitably surrender to The Desolation: the fear of loss, pain, and ruthless destruction. How nicely the concept of desiring revenge fits i with that depends on an Avatar-to-Avatar basis. It makes me think: Tim realized his fate was to become another monster and wished to avoid it by destroying himself as memorably, as _painfully_ as possible, just as much as he wished to see Danny again in The End. All he had to do was use The Unknowing as an excuse to go out in a "blaze of glory", as it were. Fitting is it not?

**DR. STRAND**

I… _[sigh]_ fine, whatever, skipping through the nonsense. His suicide note mentioned numerous times about how "they" and "the monsters" ruined his life, which to me suggests some serious mental trauma, possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with some Paranoid co-morbidity, and potential Schizophrenic hallucinations on top. However there were no specific mentions about "The Unknowing"... that must be the House of Wax's circus event tied with your enemy "The Stranger" cult, right?

**ELIAS**

You know I thoroughly enjoy how you speak _this and that_ about cults and think about the BITE Model constantly, but ironically the only Entity or "Phobia" - as Jon coined to help you two come to grips - to have a genuine cult is The Desolation with it's Cult of the Lightless Flame. Your arrogant ignorance is truly quite charming.

**DR. STRAND**

Just answer my question.

**ELIAS**

Yes, The Unknowing is the _ritual_ that is inseparably tied with the existence of The Stranger, which is an enemy to The Eye and the Magnus Institute by extension. Just remember, The Stranger is every bit **_your_ ** enemy as well as being Alex's enemy, Iconoclast. Jon said as such, and you still can't accept what you're seeing. The Spiral is the fear of being deceived and going insane, for someone who champions scientific research and the objective reality above all else, you can _rest easy_ knowing that we saved your logical reality _._ In fact you should be thanking us for setting this little record of your's straight.

**DR. STRAND**

Don't you **_dare_ ** even jokingly suggest that Alex or I should be "thanking" you for **_any-goddamn-thing!_ **

**[STRAND'S VOICE ECHOES SLIGHTLY IN THE SILENCE]**

**DR. STRAND**

_[clears throat]_...and don't drag Alex into this, also stop calling me that.

**ELIAS**

This is rather convenient, speaking of Miss Reagan-

**DR. STRAND**

So this dust recorder is modified to pick up on each other. That's how you know what Alex and I were arguing with Mr. Sims about. Should've broken that thing on sight.

**ELIAS**

Dr. Strand…? _(through hearty chuckle)_ You know where we are. Four iron, windowless walls inside a high security prison, an interrogation room at that. There's no wireless reception here. You even felt the need to leave your phone with Miss Reagan because you were worried about breaking a rule, and getting arrested. _(now more like laughter)_

**DR. STRAND**

Then you have someone on the outside feeding you information, that push-over who called himself a Prison Guard sure seemed like the type of closet cultist to bend himself into whatever your twisted mind wanted if I weren't around.

**ELIAS**

A tempting idea, to be sure. You were almost onto something about _feeding information_ to an Avatar of The Eye but unfortunately for you, you've missed the mark once again. Consider the symptoms, Dr. Strand. Why else did you confess to these sleepwalking spells only when Miss Reagan had the recorder running? Why else did you want to "interrogate" me when you could've just continued discussing this with Jon? Why else are you even still here, listening to me ramble on in my "cult-speak" when normally, you'd barely be able to tolerate the time it would take to cough in my direction before walking out? Because surrounding yourself with **_three_ ** Avatars of The Eye can hold that level of influence over you. I _compelled_ the Guard to leave, just as Jon _compelled_ you to speak, and how Miss Reagan **_accidentally_ ** _compelled_ your attention, all on the same day.

**DR. STRAND**

What makes you so sure that any of those events actually happened?

**ELIAS**

Ah-ha! Excellent, **_excellent_** question, Iconoclast!

**DR. STRAND**

Drop the stupid nickname already.

**ELIAS**

Apologies. Still, that is a truly amazing question from a Spiral victim, no! A potential Spiral Avatar!

 _"What makes you so sure that any of those events actually happened?"_

I could ask that same question to you about your transcript that Helen definitely _didn't_ make as a practical prank on you! I mean, what's the point in trying to lecture an Advanced Calculus Maths Teacher when you refuse to learn how to add or subtract?

**DR. STRAND**

**_Excuse me…!?_ **

**ELIAS**

Now tell me, Dr. Strand, how do you think I came upon all this information, that hasn't even been released in a new episode of Miss Reagan's podcast?

**DR. STRAND**

My best hypothesis is that your _dear little Archivist_ repeatedly smuggled in the news of my investigation into your quote-unquote "Institute" which Sims was able relay it all to you. He's another of your foot-soldiers, so breaking into someone's computer or hotel room to plant listening devices must've been like nothing to that paranoiac.

**ELIAS**

Is that really the conclusion you've come to?

**DR. STRAND**

Of course. The Black Tapes is a popular podcast and I've had my share of attempted and actual break-ins at my Strand Institute, from obsessive stalker fans and deranged anti-fans alike. Someone still sends me these marriage proposals to my personal email, and no matter how many times I tell Alex **_not_ ** to go into my personal life for her ghost show, she still stubbornly insists on going behind my back and _[trails off]_...

**[LIGHT STATIC COMES AND GOES]**

**DR. STRAND**

_[unnerved shudder]_

**ELIAS**

See? You felt it too! _[happy shudder]_

**DR. STRAND**

See… felt _what?_

**ELIAS**

That slight, soft little alarm bell, like something _just_ outside of your vision was just watching you! This is more evidence of The Eye's existence!

**DR. STRAND**

You're getting on my **_last_ ** nerve with this Bouchard.

**ELIAS**

_(innocently)_ Only just now...?

**[CHAIR SCRAPES, DOCUMENTS ARE PICKED UP]**

**DR. STRAND**

You're absolutely right, I'm taking my leave-

**[HARSHER STATIC]**

**ELIAS**

**_Sit back down and stay, Iconoclast_ ** . 

**[CHAIR SCRAPES, THIS TIME IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION]**

**[DOCUMENTS ARE PLACED BACK ON THE TABLE]**

**[STATIC FADES]**

**DR. STRAND**

_[deeply unnerved shudder]_

**ELIAS**

See? I just joined the list of "people" who can compel Dr. Richard "Iconoclast" Strand to do whatever our "twisted minds" want. How nice it feels to be included.

**DR. STRAND**

So… I chose with my own free will to sit back down, what gives…?

**ELIAS**

Deluding **_yourself_ ** now?

**DR. STRAND**

No. I forgot to ask you something. About your D&D fantasy.

**ELIAS**

_(his smile is audible)_ Ask away _._

**DR. STRAND**

You've been going on _endlessly_ about your moronic nicknames and titles, so much that Tim used his last amount of time alive just to curse everyone's real names and indoctrinated identities in a one star review. Your fake _"Gods"_ too, The Eye, The Spiral, The Desolation, The This, The That… with all this New Age Woo Cult good-for-nothing **_bullshit…_** _[labored pause]_ With everything I've found about your Magnus _[audible air-quotes] """"Institute""""_ there's a startling pattern I've noticed: the case where a vampire-loving homeless man murdered another man in cold blood, it was reported that he was eventually spotted entering the Magnus Institute, Julia Montauk the daughter of Robert Montauk - the infamous serial killer who came there to, was spotted _in America,_ committing serial killings with that homeless man! How about Lisa Carmel - the orchestrator of the Murder Club case having made a post on her Facebook account that she'd just gotten back from this goddamned Magnus Institute **_3 hours_** before her arrest!? The missing person's case of skydiver Robert Kelly went ice cold as his grieving mother could only insist that the sky fucking **_ate_** him and testifying that the Magnus Institute wouldn't do anything to help. Resident priest, child murderer, and cannibalistic psychopath Edwin Burroughs was allowed by his prison guards to make a "Statement" to the Magnus Institute as if the insanity plea were gonna save him from the lethal injection! Nicole Baxter was the sole witness to the arson attack on Ivy Meadows Care Home and confessed on Twitter that giving her account to the Magnus Institute has done nothing but trigger traumatic flashbacks!

**ELIAS**

_(patronizing softness)_ I see the point you're making, you can sto--

**DR. STRAND**

_(enraged)_ ** _Oh Hell no!! You can shut the fuck up and wait until I've stopped!!_** **Anyway!** Thomas Neill gave up his pursuit of his scientific ambitions after his mentor was supposedly eaten alive by evil mosquitoes in another one star review of your Institute! From a cable-car in Austria - a man named Julian Jennings and his mother were the only people to return safely where multiple others and the unknown driver who'd all been declared missing people with their case never being solved, wanna know how I found out he went to the oh-so-glorious Magnus Institute after attempting to contact the police about his trauma induced delusions after watching a man commit fucking _suicide_? Because **_I found his venting blog from the depths of the r/watchpeopledie Subreddit and got in contact with him, personally!_** Let's just keep going yeah? Gertrude Robinson… _(half-hoarse bark of laughter)_ just saying her name makes my head spin from everything I found about _that bitch._ Using explosives to destroy buildings, murdering the owner of a taxidermy shop owner and stealing his most prized gorilla skin - that's normal human behavior! She was also seen fueling her own Jocasta Complex with Gerard Keay: a man that was suspiciously acquitted of murdering his mother Mary Keay, though there's not much evidence on this one, Robinson was also involved with the disappearance of a man named Micheal Shelly, who - from his aunt's missing person's report - he repeated bragged about being Robinson's favorite assistant …I just… do you have **_any idea at ALL_** … _[pauses to catch his breath]_

**[BEAT]**

**DR. STRAND**

_(notably tired)_ ...and with your hyper precious Archivist: Jonathan Sims, I once got an email from him years and **_years_ ** ago, it must've been before he was indoctrinated into your Woo bullshit. It was brief and very… very sweet. In it Si--… J-Jon said that he'd been a fan of mine since he was 13, and then at 20-something, he'd just gotten accepted for a job interview for a Researcher position at this place in London that I'd never heard of before, called the Magnus Institute. He was so happy. So thankful that he'd managed to find a career path that dealt with the paranormal, just so he could take what he'd learned from me and see for himself if the supernatural was real or not. And at the end, he thanked me for existing and typed goodbye. It seems like such a silly thing you know? Spending the rest of the night crying from a few kind words some stranger left on an email you almost forgot the password to. I was eventually able to reply of course, but I spent so long just _staring_ into that empty word document trying to think of how to convey the dehydration I'd given myself from how long I cried for and what every sob meant to me. I must've rewrote that reply two dozen times, going from novel-length expressions of sentiments to just a simple _"Thanks."_ But yeah, eventually I did reply, and I was honest:

_"This must be what it feels like to have a son."_

In hindsight it was probably the creepiest thing in the fucking world for a public figure to reply to a fan with, but there's no changing the past. I love Charlie as my beloved daughter, even if she'll never forgive my mistakes. But… anyway. 

**[CONTEMPLATIVE PAUSE]**

**DR. STRAND**

Bouchard?

**ELIAS**

Yes?

**DR. STRAND**

What have you done to my son?

**ELIAS**

Nothing. I only watched.

**DR. STRAND**

Of course. The Magnus Institute is a **_blight_ ** to this world, Bouchard. It has caused nothing but pain and agony. The people that turned to you, dead, missing, or thankfully still alive, have all ended up worse than from before they walked in. Nothing good has come from it's founding and the Lukas family is better off throwing their fortune into a fire than to waste another cent on you and your bullshit. Your false Institute takes everyday people and sells them the premise that making a "Statement" will help ease their trauma, when all that's actually happening is that you make their delusions - their _fears!_ \- worse, to embed the story of your "Fear Gods" deeper still into your poor selection of employees until they can't help but think that they have superpowers and see the founder as a Holy Figure and the position of Head Archivist as a duty of the High Cleric… or something. The Magnus Institute is a New Age Cult that romanticizes the concept of living in fear and builds a belief system in it's unfortunate victims that drives them all insane, to the point where an innocent man was driven to suicide and _my son_ almost joined him in killing himself for the sake of his fictitious Eye God and the murderous pothead that drove all this nonsense into his head.

**[BITTER SILENCE]**

**DR. STRAND**

Bouchard.

**ELIAS**

Yes?

**DR. STRAND**

_(like ice)_ **I hate you.**

**ELIAS**

I am very much aware of that fact.

**DR. STRAND**

So get that grin off your face.

**[SILENCE CONTINUES]**

**ELIAS**

Dr. Strand.

**DR. STRAND**

Mmh?

**ELIAS**

You forgot to ask your question.

**DR. STRAND**

Oh. Right.

**[MORE SILENCE]**

**DR. STRAND**

Alright. I got it. As the previous manager, you should know.

**ELIAS**

_(happily)_ Ask away.

**DR. STRAND**

Why does the Magnus Institute exist?

**ELIAS**

Let's come back to this idea later. You're… not going to like the answer.

**DR. STRAND**

_(despairing groan)_...more baseless eye bullshit...

**ELIAS**

Well, while messing around was certainly entertaining, I believe it's time I finally give you what you want.

**DR. STRAND**

What? My time back?

**ELIAS**

No, better. **Proof**. Nice and irrefutable. Just how you like it.

**DR. STRAND**

There's absolutely nothing about your New Age garbage that you could prove. I guarantee that.

**ELIAS**

_(taking joy in this)_ You might be more wrong about that than you think… Dr. Strand, public figures like yourself are some of the easiest to gaze into, since there's already a wealth of information for all to see anyway, us Beholders can, wade through the noise - as it were - to see the very depths of your **_"true self"_** and know what traumatizes you. And you, you're the so desperately afraid of The Spiral's manifestations that… _(taking a bit too much pleasure in this)_ Helen is crushing on you like a schoolgirl and employing Micheal's mind games, just as a means to personally-yet-lovingly torment you. I see what she means, _perfectly!_ _(losing composure)_ I know that I'm not the one you're _truly_ afraid of, but I'm also the possessive type, so let me _burn myself into your eyes_ and take you from Helen _._ Just like how long you waited to get to this point in time where you're interrogating me... you, you have not an iota of an idea, _[shaking with excitement]_ ** _how much longer I've wanted to prove you so wrong that it breaks you._**

**DR. STRAND**

_(despondent)_ Was any of that supposed to make sense to me? Just "prove" this already.

**[SOFT STATIC CREEPS IN]**

**DR. STRAND**

Why are you **staring** at me like tha--?!

**ELIAS**

Statement of Dr. Richard Strand, pertaining to his habitual episodes of sleepwalking and the true nature of his psychic powers. Statement taken directly from subject as proof of my claims. Statement taped by Elias Bouchard, heart of the Magnus Institute. Right here, right now.

**DR. STRAND**

_(immediately, almost overlapping)_ I don't have _"psychic powers"_...

**ELIAS**

Are you sure?

**DR. STRAND**

_(small scoff)_ Positive.

**ELIAS**

Very well, then listen closely, Iconoclast.

**ELIAS (STATEMENT)**

This is where your _Statement begins_.

It's a very known thing that the most common triggers for sleepwalking include sleep deprivation, extreme stress, head trauma, sleep apnea, or just plain hereditary unluckiness. But, I could never shake the feeling that there was something different about me. My father is Howard Strand, a globe trotting real-life Indiana Jones type who's secret mission in life is to uncover some major secret of the world and go down in history as The Fifth Horseman or a champion of truth for this modern age. When you go around throughout your childhood thinking things like _that_ about a simple authority figure whom you, your sister, and mother barely ever see, it's easy to feel like you're never going to escape his shadow for as long as you live. I was a fairly idiotic child with a number of embarrassing delusions and examples of cognitive biases that I'll never tell anyone about but, I was never able to shake this absurd hunch I had that there was something out-of-the-ordinary about me, and my dreams.

The first instance of my ability was back in Chicago, on Vermont Avenue, in our humble little one-floor house. Living there made me so glad that I never developed claustrophobia, even when we were the only ones there, the house could seem so cramped when Cheryl and I would sometimes sleep in the literal same bed, just to remind ourselves - ironically - that we weren't alone in our suffering. Once someone who I never thought existed: an older brother of mine named Howard Jr. first showed up on a night plagued with hard rainfall and harsh winds, I was having a fair amount of trouble sleeping. The howling winds seeping through the window that wouldn't close all the way sounded a little too much like agonized screaming, the unending cry of the rain made the shadows on our dingy carpet look like a warped and wriggling mass of humanoid silhouettes - all doing their damnedest to claw their way out of whatever shadow realm my childish mind clung to as the imaginary origin point to their existence. _God_ , I was a dumbass kid…

Then somewhere past midnight, Cheryl was sound asleep after I gave more than half of my share of the blanket to help her stop shivering. The blurred edges of my vision were starting to black out entirely when I heard another sound mixed into the semi-screaming wind: knocking. At first I thought it was a burglar and snuggled up with Cheryl in the hopes that she would… I don't know, protect me? Then the knocking came a second time and rumbled through the beating rain like rhythmic thunder, I managed to think of it as such and ignore it just in time to completely float into sleepfulness, or so I thought. Finally the knocking came a third time and though I felt my eyes open I wasn't able to see until maybe two seconds later, and my heart rate spiked as a single word lit my chest like someone lit a candle in the middle of what I thought was an impenetrable void: _"Father!"_ I was convinced. With an energy I've never felt since, I sprang up out of our bed and bolted down the hallway, uncaring of the noise I might have made. I was going to be the first one to greet Father at the door while everyone else would have to hear it secondhand - _from_ **_me_ ** _!_ \- that he was home again before he inevitably vanished by the time it came for us to eat breakfast. Father always struggled with his massive ring of keys when he needed to enter through the front door, on top of whatever adventuring souvenir he would always carry back. So tell me why that when my 11 year old self stood there, in that dark living room and the fabricated shadow screams, I witnessed with my own two eyes that the door opened without the doorknob needing to turn.

On our small porch where Cheryl and I would help each other peel the lemons we got from Mr. Hiltone's lemon tree to sell unpermitted lemonade over the summer, that night was so gloomy that the haze from the blanketing downpour half shrouded him in such a biting fog that it made him look straight out of a Silent Hill cutscene. The first thing I noticed was how tall he was, clearly 4 to 5 heads higher than me, with a _Strand-like_ confidence in his posture. He was soaked to the bone and without any luggage or an umbrella, it wouldn't have been weird if I closed the door on his face and went back to bed, but… then he started to speak in a British accent.

_"Hello, is this the Strand residence?"_

He had a head full of what looked like black or brown hair, it was styled in a way that seemed to be a mix between Father's typical comb over and the attempt at a classic taper that I have now. He was a bit more fair skinned than Mom, had a wide smile that Cheryl would envy, his face was dotted with unique freckles, but his eyes were a carbon copy of mine's and Father's - that same blue color that I still get complimented on. That's how I noticed he was actually blood related to us. Unsure of what to say I waited until he was drying off on the couch for him to introduce himself in full as Howard Strand Jr. _"our Dad's secret"_ \- he said - and confessed that he couldn't stay long for fear that someone other than me would wake up and "notice" but just wanted to see what his step-mom and step-siblings were like, even if only for a minute. I could only watch as Howard Jr. strided down the different-looking hall, bouncing his curious gaze from door to door to door to door, peeking inside each room at his leisure. With a spring in his step he was totally unbothered by the wind pounding on the house as if it were trying to claw the walls off, as if he couldn't hear it at all. Upon noticing that my pajama-clad self standing dumbstruck at the realization that Father had an entire other family, this newly discovered step-brother of mine lowered himself to my eye level and smiled, such a strange Cheshire Cat grin. The fatigue hit all at once when I made eye contact with his pair of swirling blue vortices. The next thing I know: it was morning. Mom held me and both her and Cheryl were worried sick to find that I passed out on the floor, sopping wet from the rain I didn't remember standing in. Mom promptly carried me into our shared room to show me that the jarred window was painted all over in her paint set, it was a very crude painting of Howard Jr. wearing that grin of his. Every now and then, I can still smell the traces of dried paint on the tips of my fingers.

Then two weeks later, my father himself came home in another dream to pull me aside and confess that it was the anniversary of a mistake he made. Apparently, before meeting my Mom, he had another family in the U.K. with a woman he swore he didn't know was already married, and had gotten her pregnant as well. He wanted to elope with her and had actually started arranging to do so, until he got a call from her husband, who went into great detail about how he just killed both his wife and my father's unborn child. My father had planned to name that child after himself, and would've been 16 years old that day. That was the first ever case of my illogical dreams as brought from my sleepwalking. And on every rainy night since, the neighbor across the street must've installed another door, because it wasn't there before.

**DR. STRAND**

_(disbelieving whisper) M-Maybe, someone I knew… no, that can't be possible, I never told anyone about…_

**ELIAS (STATEMENT)**

There were smaller, more meager cases before this one that I'll talk about, but those are irrelevant. You don't really want to hear me going on about how my dreams helped me find and save a neighbor's pregnant cat during a snowstorm, do you? So in terms of the life-altering kinds, the second case was after the disappearance and death of Bobby Mames. 

I was 16 and living in Summerville, Pennsylvania at the time, though the accurate moniker for my place in my social circle was 'the quiet one' I just happened to rethink on that time when I was 11, and wanted to do my damnedest to bring as little attention to myself as possible, lest my father somehow catch wind of my spooky nightmare powers and proceed to fly home just to literally beat them out of me. _I'm the son of Howard Strand; the supernatural can't be real_ , I told myself, still tell myself, and always will continue to tell myself. My friends at the time were Wayne Coates - Wesley Coates's big brother and my then-best friend, Dave… _(faint static)_ and Mike… _(it grows)_ can't...remember their last...names… _(static quiets)_ but anyway, that was my friend circle. Bobby Mames was more in Wesley's circle with he and I only ever exchanging pleasantries, but the thing is: my Mom was very close with Bobby's parents, and with her being the bleeding-heart empath that she was, was just as devastated at Bobby's disappearance as his Mother and Father were. And with me being her only son, pair that with a world adventuring husband that only her weird psychic son knew had already gotten a past family killed, it's only natural that I felt obligated by law to do everything in my power to ease her mind. At least a little. 

But instead of leaving it up solely to my dreams, I chose to make use of father's method of pure logic to aid my first real investigation and effectively combine the two and create a methodology wholly my own. 1976. I will never forget that year for as long as I live. Every single map of Summerville I stared into had it printed somewhere. 1976. The amount of non-fiction forensics, criminal psychology, and police related library books I'd check out and write excerpts from all had that year stamped on every one of my library receipts. 1976. I kept the television stuck on the local news station 24/7 with zero concern for anyone that may have been annoyed, it's not like I was in danger of violating the supper curfew. I'd also stay up for an inadvisable amount of hours, with the sole purpose to exacerbate my sleepwalking and trigger even more vivid dreams, until one day, Mike had invited us all to his house the following day. I just **felt** it then: _all of my hard work would pay off for this._ So I closed my copy of _(soft static)_ ...whatever killer psychology book I had _(static fades)_ , turned off the TV for the first time in weeks, and after what felt like months of self-enforced insomnia, I missed my bed and crashed into unconsciousness on the red carpeted floor. That counts as sleep right?

It must. Because in the darkness behind my eyelids, someone knocked on my locked bedroom door. My first thought was that it was Mom, having come running with anxiety over her son; now unconscious, face down, and practically eating the carpet that hadn't even been vacuumed yet, but as I literally couldn't move, I silently apologized. Cue the second round of knocks and my assurance that everything was going according to plan, I chose to wait it out. 

But the knocking never came a third time, no matter how long I waited. And trust me, **_all I could do was wait._ **

My muscles locked up and refused to let me move an inch - let alone a millimeter, which included my vocal cords and the muscles they used to properly. So screaming was out of the question. I was wide awake-asleep and actually starting to inwardly panic a touch more for each of my heartbeats marked another second that had gone by in otherwise _silence._ Instead it felt like my heart was mocking me, only simulating the sound I wanted most and continued at such a speed that I was part ways hoping to die on that day, just so I'd never have to hear another palpitation from it again. Blinking and breathing were all I had, so when the door that hadn't been there when I blinked last knocked the third time and slowly opened by itself to reveal the same hallway that our old house turned into when the ghost of my unborn step brother came to visit, a surge of hopeful joy that overcame me was just enough to unlock my limbs and limp past the threshold of the doorway.

Paintings. Paintings of rivers lined the walls to the point where I could barely see the forest green wallpaper and the nausea inducing swishing pattern behind them. Some rivers I recognized on one of my field trips with my father, some I recognized from the local areas, others I had no clue about. As I sluggishly returned my feet, the paintings seemed to move like videos in time with my own movements. The farther down I walked I could barely tell if I were even going forward, so from then on, I ran. I needed to find Bobby, I _needed_ to make this right! No matter where I ran or how far, the hall either wouldn't end or trap me inside a box of fractal walls. The electric lamps would catch fire from the water in the paintings? I think I started drowning, but when I turned the corner I wound up going through a door made out of bricks that led to that a model kit replication of that rainy porch, turning around led me back into an airport lobby that looked just like the hallway except with an upside down face… All I wanted was to find Bobby, not lose my footing and blink to realize that my ears were bleeding from the police radio frequencies that forced me to ask when I developed an Oedipus…

I swear, this reminds me of Coralee's favorite show. She tried to get me into it so many times that I have to ask: ...have you ever seen Twin Peaks?

**ELIAS**

...Dr. Strand?

**DR. STRAND**

_(trembling sobs) Shut… up. J-Just shut up!_

**ELIAS**

Dr- no, no, _Richie_ , come on…

**DR. STRAND**

_(panicked) No… it's not true, just shut up already!_

**ELIAS**

That's not what I'm asking, Richie. Just open your eyes for me...

**[STATIC]**

**ELIAS**

**_Did you ever finish Twin Peaks?_ **

**DR. STRAND**

_No… the Black Lodge scared me… too much…_

**ELIAS**

**_Why did you really give up on your "psychic powers"?_ **

**DR. STRAND**

_I-I didn't… want to end up l-like Cooper… I-I couldn't let C-Coralee… end up like… Annie…_

**[STATIC SETTLES]**

**ELIAS (STATEMENT)**

Continuing Statement.

...because, despite how late I actually did start watching it, I never finished it. Just the idea of the Black Lodge: an otherworldly _place_ where everything you fear is **_existing_ ** with you in the same reality that you inhabit, all while disregarding the very rules of the only reality that you used to live in. Everything only looks half correct as the very structure of your subconscious leaves even the lies _twisted_ and _wrong!_ Unable to go back. Unable to find yourself. Unable to fix your mistake of walking in to begin with. It makes no sense. But in hindsight, that's where I found myself. My own Black Lodge.

Until I stumbled through a doorway, and no longer was.

Crickets, the pale bulbs of light that danced behind the darkness of the midnight sky, taking painfully deep breaths of the nighttime air, warmth, and running water from the river I sounded dangerously close to falling into. Outside. I was outside. I made it back to Summerville, not too far from where a killer on the loose would likely kill a resident without having to travel too far and look suspicious to anyone from a neighboring town, nor too close for any resident to stumble upon the body. Somehow, my clothes and skin were this dull _grey._ A lifeless grey. Grey. I remember thinking that color sounded like a name, like _Gary_ or something. Finding the strength to feel about the ground, it consisted of fresh dirt and grass… touching the water, it felt too warm and much too thick to be water. 

They say that blood is thicker than water.   
  


Blood running like a river.  
  


Blood is red. Rivers have water.

  
Rivers have a number of synonyms.  
  


A little ways away deeper into the moonlit trees - in just the most logical spot for someone to hide a body - was none other than Bobby, in that green sweater he mentioned was his favorite. On the ground, the blood river flowed upward from the bank, into the pool where Bobby was pointing. Lying in the wet grass was _another, dead Bobby._

Right there:

**_"...at Red Bank Creek."_ **

**[STATIC BLARES, QUICKLY DROWNING OUT ALL ELSE]**

**[STATIC CALMS SOMEWHAT]**

**[OUTDOOR AMBIANCE OF SUMMERVILLE]**

**MEMORY OF WAYNE**

_"Hey uh, Richie? You okay there, man?"_

**[SOUNDS OF A SUNNY DAY]**

**MEMORY OF WAYNE**

_"Yoohoo… Earth to Richie," [repeated finger snapping] "Anyone home in there…?"_

**[UNEASY SILENCE]**

**MEMORY OF WAYNE**

_"Uhh… (turns away) hey guys!? Something's up with Richie…!"_

**[APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS]**

**MEMORY OF DAVE**

_"What's up with Rich?"_

**MEMORY OF WAYNE**

_"I don't know! He won't even look at me, like he's sleepwalki--"_

**RICHARD**

_(barely a whisper) "...where he is."_

**MEMORY OF WAYNE**

_"W...what?"_

**RICHARD**

**_"I know where he is."_ **

**[STATIC SCREECHES]**

**[STATIC DIES DOWN]**

**[ELIAS COUGHING]**

**ELIAS (STATEMENT)**

_[coughing continues]_ Ugh… okay, _(through labored breathing)_ ...right! Alright… never doing that again. _[clears throat]_ Statement ends.

**ELIAS**

See? That wasn't so bad, now was it? There's no way I was one of your childhood friends, none of my employees even know they exist, I'm not allowed access to the internet and I never listened to your podcast to begin with, the only reason I knew you and your Journalist were coming was because of Miss Reagan's very fittingly _Journalistic_ nature to broadcast sensitive information and overshare everything. Your physical proximity after touching down in London only made things _so_ much clearer. So here, a parting gift. 

**[THE TAPE RECORDER CLICKS OPEN]**

**ELIAS**

Treat it well and think of me every once in a while, the more jealous I can make Helen, the brighter my gloomy and dull life becomes.

**[FAINT TAPE-SPINNING NOISES]**

**ELIAS**

Though if you see her - which _(scoff)_ of course you will - tell her that this petty little act of love-spurned spite is assuredly nothing personal. And - even if you're embarrassed - remind her to love you _gently_ next time, your Journalist may have bought your story, but I know better. So do you, Iconoclast.

**[SOUNDS OF TAPE REMOVAL]**

**[DESPITE THE IMPOSSIBILITY, IT KEEPS RUNNING]**

**[THE TAPE IS SLID TO STRAND'S SIDE OF THE TABLE]**

**ELIAS**

Now you have no choice but to believe when I say that the Magnus Institute exists solely for the sake of feeding information to The Eye… right? After all...

**[STATIC]**

**ELIAS**

**_…I'm not asking you to ADMIT that your entire life's mission is a fool's errand because Howard "The Sceptic'' Strand had spent his whole life lying to his Teraphobic son about the fact that the supernatural is real… right?_ **

**[CLICK]**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**[Outro music]**

**THE WRITER**

_The Magnus Archives_ is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill, licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share-Alike 4.0 International License. Today's "episode" was a fan-made creation with no affiliation to Rusty Quill nor any of it's associates whatsoever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was Chapter 3!! I made sure to upload it on a Thursday like a proper Magnus episode lol  
> Also this Chapter managed to be finished on the 69th page.
> 
> Edit (3/11): I'm worried that there is possibly something flawed in my writing. Let me know if I messed up anything.


	4. The Opposing Institute Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tour around the Magnus Institute gets underway, as Mr. Sims introduces Alex to the other members of the Archival staff while probably wishing they were just a little friendlier...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Final Chapter, I'd like to thank everyone who made it here! It was such a different experience writing this as opposed to another oneshot, but somehow you made it here with me, and I am grateful!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

[[ Theme Song and Intro ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqVjvnjitwA)]

The Black Tapes Podcast is an exploration of life, belief, faith, and occasionally the paranormal. Here we continue focusing our lens on the work of the Strand Institute and its enigmatic founder and president, Dr. Richard Strand.

From the National Radio Alliance and Minnow Beats Whale, it’s the Black Tapes Podcast. I’m Alex Reagan.

[Musical Interlude]

This week we're picking up right where we left off by delving into the normally forbidden Archives of the London-based Magnus Institute with the Head Archivist, Jonathan Sims himself. We were inside Jonathan's office and playing something of an exercise where he'd make up a fake Statement, read it to me like a "real" one complete with "keywords", and I'd have to guess which of the "fourteen Fear Entities" the fictional Statement-Giver had fallen victim to. I was doing terribly.

_"Ah… yeah you're right. I guess the whole_ **_'spiraling'_ ** _staircase would've been a dead giveaway… how did I miss that?"_

_"Please don't worry, it was my fault, focusing so much on the amount of windows as opposed to how many weren't there before,"_

_"Is why I thought The Vast was the culprit. I see."_

_"Well you're certainly doing better than I did, by a long,_ **_long_ ** _shot…"_

The office itself felt both incredibly spacious and simultaneously the most claustrophobic thing I'd ever experienced. It had the type of clutteredness that made visitors hesitant to tell the room's owner, because you knew that the owner had everything in places where only they would be able to find it. Moving even the most miniscule of objects would have the room's owner turning everything upside down in their search for where it'd gone missing. That's just a pretty long-winded way of saying that Jonathan's office felt like the living embodiment of a Caesar Cipher.

It felt weird without Strand's presence, I'll admit. At the end of every 'fake-real' Statement, part of me kept expecting to see him give strongly sentenced justifications for each one. _'That guy would only be hallucinating'_ and _'it was probably just an optical illusion.'_ Or to see him with his head in his hands and that dull look in his eyes, silently begging for this to end. Which reminded me,

_"Oh hey, Jonathan?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Do you seriously think Strand is gonna end up believing all this Entity stuff?"_

The utterly certain tone Jonathan had as Strand was glaring daggers and looking more than ready to actually strangle him as opposed to storming out the door, I can be pretty stubborn in my own right but I can't imagine being so unshakably firm in my belief as to tell someone to their face that they **_will_ ** believe what I believe, without a shred of doubt or humorous intent. It gives me chills.

_"Unfortunately, I really do know that he will end up believing us. Elias is… a very persuasive individual."_

_"Dear God that makes me worry. Should we go get him?"_

_"It's a little too late for a rescue mission, I'm afraid. We wouldn't be able to go against him anyway."_

_"Who? Strand or Bouchard?"_

_"Both."_

As the leader of this… _Eye Institute_ , Elias Bouchard would definitely have a way with words, which is probably how he was able to avoid police detection and even recruit two of them to his cause. It's funny, even after going to jail for _two_ accounts of murder - it wasn't just Robinson! - and having been in jail for years now, some strange part of my mind is just unable to separate Bouchard from the Magnus Institute, even sometimes forgetting that he'd even been replaced by Peter Lukas: a completely different person.

_"So with Bouchard gone, can you let me know what the new guy in charge is like?"_

_"...uh… huh, ah… well…"_

Jonathan stammered like that for some time, like the new manager was way worse than Bouchard but couldn't say, either by virtue or _vice_ of being a complete enigma to even those In The Know, or because he was a genuinely worse person to deal with, which I can neither doubt nor believe.

_"So I'll just chalk it up as a 'company secret' is that alright?"_

_"Yes that'll work, we'll say he's a company secret."_

Why do I have this sneaking suspicion that Jonathan killed him?

_"Has there ever been a Statement you thought was real but it later turns out that it wasn't?"_

_"Hmm, can't remember many of the earlier fake Statements I filed through. Even the first real-_ **_real_ ** _assignment I was given involved Simon Fairchild, a Vast Avatar...and he's very much real. But none of the tape recorded ones are fake, even for most of my 10 years here, I played such a good sceptic that everyone thought that I disbelieved everything."_

_"Really? Looking at you now, I can't imagine what your catalyst was!"_

_"[light laughter] ...yeah, but the truth is that after this one…_ **_incident_ ** _with a Web-bound book I had in my childhood, there's never been any doubt that the supernatural was real. I just needed a method as to how I'd actually start investigating it, and so came the Magnus Institute."_

_"A Web-bound book… The Web is the spider, manipulation based Entity right?"_

_"That's correct."_

_"Then how come The Eye was able to snatch you up instead?"_

_"Because I only_ **_almost_ ** _fell victim to The Web, someone else actually_ **_did_ ** _and I just…"_

_"...watched?"_

_"...yeah, all I did was watch."_

_"That's not your fault though! You had no idea that The Eye or any of the others existed! Let alone that any of these Fear Gods would_ **_target_ ** _you!"_

_"But I could've ran, or ran in to protect him, or anything, but… I chose to stand and watch."_

_"You were a child who didn't even know the "choice" was there, Jonathan."_

_"Doesn't change who I am now…"_

I still had - and have - a number of reservations about fully believing Jonathan's… situation regarding the Magnus Institute, but the longer I sat with him, the more plausible the on-paper concept became to me. Now, I can almost hear a portion of you saying that I was just doting on Jonathan for how outwardly hostile Strand was with him, and I'll tell you: I still don't know why this place invoked what felt like an _ancient rage_ from within that man. Even when dealing with our Simon - Simon Reese - a prison inmate who killed his parents and claimed to be demon-possessed teleporter, face-to-face with that man and Strand barely withstood five minutes before curtly denouncing his 'insanity' and calmly walking away. So, you might be right, but also Jonathan seemed to be a more-or-less normal person that sincerely grieves for the loss of Tim and Sasha, not this crazed lunatic that I almost believed him to be. So it's not a bad thing to do something for the sake of fairness, is it?

_[Footsteps on concrete echoes, as does Jonathan's voice]_

_"...and this is Artefact Storage, where all the physical evidence goes. Not everything in here is from a Real Statement, so be careful with the ones that are."_

_"Woah, okay… How many things are here in total…? It goes further than I thought it would."_

_"Ah, by now it must be in the five-hundreds. Maybe--"_

_[Static]_

_"--no, six-hundred and twenty-seven items are currently in Storage, my bad."_

_"Was… was that your 'Eye' thing again?"_

_"Yeah, and thank goodness it showed something relevant, and not just be the weird and intrusive thing it's always been."_

From as far as the eye could see, the Artifact Storage was lined with shelves that reached the ceiling and had labeled boxes and crates beneath the bright fluorescent lights - these were seemingly from the faker side of the Statement slider, while other items had their own enclosed spaces and parts felt like a real Little Museum of Horrors vibe going on. Occasionally Jonathan would have his attention stolen toward one of the mysterious and strange objects that were practically on display and usher me to follow before going into mournful speeches about how this swirly table triggered the emergence of Sasha's Doppelganger, about that calliope-- "koll-i-o-pe"? organ had suddenly gone missing from Storage as The Stranger Avatars were preparing to perform The Unknowing, and about how those shelves of books were the same type that he himself nearly fell victim to. They were dubbed after the second person that Bouchard killed: an arrogant collector of Phobia-bound books named Jergen **_Leitner._ **

_[Alex picks up a heavier Leitner with some effort]_

_"What's this one, that title feels familiar."_

_"Ahh! Don'topenitdon'topenitdon'topenit!!"_

_[Overlapping]_

_"Why, wha… what is it!?"_

_"That's… that's The Boneturner's Tale!"_

_"A-And what's wrong with that!?"_

_"It's connected to The Flesh!"_

_[...]_

_[Sounds of the Boneturner's Tale as it's gingerly placed back into the shelf]_

_[...]_

_"Oh look over there, Jonathan! Five-hundred miles over there!"_

_"Yeah! Let's… let's go over there!"_

Our little excursion around the Storage came with many detours and distractions. Once we'd gotten so hopelessly lost from our conversations that he actually started freaking out a bit about the possibility that The Spiral trapped us in a maze. Jonathan called out to Helen and I jokingly whispered for Strand, which also at that moment, I started to worry about him… despite that nothing prompted me to do so.

But then we found our way back to charted territory and only ended up making ourselves look like fools to the guy pushing a new crate into the further back-end of the Storage. A spark lit in Jonathan's eyes upon recognizing who that was.

_[Two pairs of footsteps run frantically, echoing still]_

_"Martin, hey Martin!!"_

It was Martin Blackwood, another of the nicknamed Archival employees that Tim felt so horrendously resentful for, the _"Forsaken Spawn"_ as he called him. For some reason, the closer Jonathan and I seemed to get to him, the… further away he got? This is gonna sound a little off but, you know how in some ghost stories, the ghost is able to manipulate reality a little and make it so that whenever the protagonists try to drive past the spirit's burial site, they realize that they can't _actually_ drive away because the street keeps looping? It was like we were locked at this distance and literally unable to move forward. From all the cold mist that had formed out of nowhere, it really did feel like the physical manifestation of "going nowhere fast".

_[Crackling static overlayed their running]_

_"Martin…! Wait, just let me… we have a_ **_visitor_ ** _Martin, can we just get an introduction?"_

_[Deeper into the static]_

_"If there's someone else with you, then I'd rather not be bothered by anyone."_

_"Come on now, we talked about this!"_

_"And I'm sure we'll_ **_continue_ ** _talking about this. For now, make them get lost."_

As speechless as I was from just trying to figure out where that fog even came from, Jonathan Sims and the fading deepish-grey silhouette of Martin Blackwood went back and forth like that, with Jonathan still pushing for just a mere introduction, and Martin retorting about how he doesn't want to be with anyone else for any reason, even as the gap in the distance widened to the point where it should've been impossible for them to hear each other. 

There was more of their argument that I managed to catch before the static overtook the rest but, that static really hurt my ears and I do **_not_ **want to subject you guys to that level of ear-torture. The Unsound was enough. 

I assume Jonathan's plan was to keep Martin talking-slash-distracted long enough to touch him and break the mist for a minute. Miraculously, he pulled it off.

_[Overlaps of Jonathan's and Alex's labored breaths]_

_[Martin sighs]_

_"Name's Martin Blackwood. Former assistant to Peter Lukas, re-established assistant to Jonathan Sims. Been working here for longer than anyone, and if he's showing you around these parts then I'm_ **_really_ ** _not in the mood for any new additions. Now get out of my sight."_

_[Static whines before fading away]_

_[Their labored breathing softens in the silence]_

_"Well then… he seems,_ **_lovely_ ** _…"_

_"Don't take it personally, he's not usually like that… he's the sweetest person I've ever known actually. I don't know where I'd be without him..."_

_[Jonathan stretches]_

_"...still, everyone's got their foul mood days, am I right?"_

_"Yeah…[sighs] yeah you're right about that."_

Somehow after taking what felt like a whole tour through an entire fog machine, Jonathan and I found ourselves right where we started, with Martin and his crate nowhere to be found. A fog machine is probably what he used for that trick anyway, either that or Martin was a particularly affected victim or Avatar of The Lonely.

But regardless, the next destination in our trip was this smaller, more closed off room in Storage, where not much was inside save the most eye-catching item I'd seen yet.

_"Uh...please don't tell me there's something_ **_alive_ ** _in there??"_

_"There's nothing alive in there. Nothing died either. Though you're lucky not to have come here while it was raining. Because then it starts to_ **_sing_ ** _."_

A coffin. A pale-yellow wooden coffin, entangled around the surface and closing the lid was a sturdy silver chain, traditional lock and skeleton key. Deeply carved into the off-color lid are three simple, all-capital words: "DO NOT OPEN".

_"You're wondering where Daisy went, this is where."_

_"She… she_ **_died!?_ ** _"_

_"_ **_NO!_ ** _No!! Goodness no! I did my best to make things right and she made it out!! I was just saying that this is where she went after The Unknowing! What police officer would think to check the disappearing coffin."_

_"So_ **_you_ ** _went inside the coffin too!?"_

_"Yes."_

_"And you know what's inside?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"And...she's okay?"_

_[...]_

_"Yes, she's perfectly okay."_

_"You don't sound too convincing…"_

_[...]_

_"I_ **_hope_ ** _she's perfectly okay, at least."_

_"Oh… well, what was in the coffin?"_

_"To keep your curiosity from piquing, let's call it a company secret."_

To escape the sudden onslaught of depressive energy, Jonathan guided me back up to the brighter areas of the Institute. The first floor break room to be exact, which someone came just as Jonathan was explaining how some of the Library staff thought that the vending machine belonged in Artifact Storage.

_"...but seriously, I don't believe it. I can't imagine how something that isn't connected to the Entities is able to produce an entire cake when someone simply presses the button that doesn't even work. Unless there's fifthteenth 'The Hunger' or something, but if that were the case then it would count as 'famine' from the button not working. Famine is one of the Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse, so… it would be tied to death - The End? Or… it's totally illogical for an entire cake to come from a broken vending machine slot so… The Spiral maybe-"_

_[Static]_

_"...Basira?"_

_"Jon."_

_"Y-Yes? Is there something you need?"_

_"Who is that? Why are you bringing a civilian around the Institute?"_

_"I-I didn't tell you? This is Alex Reagan, from the Black Tapes Podcast? W-With Dr. Strand?"_

_"Dr._ **_Richard_ ** _Strand? The Strand Institute's Dr. Strand…?"_

_"Ask Miss Reagan, she's literally right here."_

_"Hello, Mrs. Hussain, it's nice to meet you. And yes, I'm here working with_ **_that_ ** _Dr. Strand."_

_"Yeah, likewise… so if you and Strand are here then it can't be for a good reason."_

_"Well, coming here was_ **_his_ ** _idea, I'm just collecting intel."_

_"Yup, that makes it even worse. Actually, Miss Reagan, could you come with me for a sec? It won't take long."_

_"Oh! Uh, that okay Jonathan?"_

_"Sure, go right ahead! I'll be here figuring out this vending machine."_

At a very brisk walking speed, Basira Hussain led me down the hall to somewhere else. She had a harshness in her eyes unlike any other than I met here, with a stride that honestly made me think that this would be how Gertrude Robinson would've carried herself. True to Strand's articles, there wasn't a scar or blemish on her. She'd managed to completely escape the explosion at the House of Wax, but to me, she looked… _colder_ because of it. Yeah, that's the word. Much colder.

Eventually, I was led into a fairly sized broom closet, which worried me a smidge, but with the light on and the door still creaked open I guess she didn't want to completely trap me.

_"Why are you two here?"_

_"Uh… we were, he was trying to investigate the House of Wax bombing in--"_

_"--Great Yarmouth?"_

_"Uh… yes. Jonathan was just trying to elaborate on his reasons behind it."_

_"Where is Strand?"_

_"He left a little while ago, though I might've accidentally…"_

_"Accidentally what?"_

_"It sounds stupid but uh, I don't know if it means anything to you but, I thought I accidentally_ **_commanded_ ** _him to leave."_

_"...so that's where that static was coming from."_

_"What!? F-From where!?"_

_"From the tape recorder that just showed up on my desk."_

I still can't decide if these mythical recorders really did just _show up_ or if Strand was actually more right than I thought about, maybe not everyone here, but definitely the Archive staff being a living malware inside the Institute. But that moment I couldn't help but feel that Jonathan's story might have been right. Just by going back to re-listen to the last episode and I'll be the first to tell you: I've never noticed this much about Strand's behavior until we stepped foot into Magnus. That fog analogy? I never would've thought of that if I didn't experience it as first hand as I did. 

_"Listen, it's not safe for you here. We do not need Jon making a monster out of you."_

_"Huh!?"_

_"If he's been telling you about The Eye, then you don't want to end up like him. Just take Strand and leave this place as fast as you can."_

Unfortunately I wasn't able to ask if she knew about her ironic nickname as the _"Eye Princess"_ before the flashing alarm bell in my head warned me to get Strand away from _Leader of The Eye Avatars Bouchard_ drove me to ask Jon if it were safe to get Strand then.

_"Oh, uh…"_

_[Static]_

_"...yes they're finished and he'll need your help. If you leave now you'll be able to catch him just as he limp- leaves the building."_

_"Alright, thank you!"_

I rushed out the Institute doors and into our rental car and drove off to the prison complex that houses Elias Bouchard. After the break, we'll get into the drive back to the hotel and attempt to have Strand open up about what he found out from Bouchard. I’m Alex Reagan, it’s the Black Tapes Podcast. Stay with us.

[Musical Interlude]

…

As you and I know, the existence of the supernatural is a highly contested topic with believers and skeptics from every walk of life. Aside from our Black Tapes Podcast, there are many others doing their best to tackle this issue in their own way, one such is - even if Strand would absolutely despise it - the well respected authority in the cryptozoology community, Trevor Barnes, and his conspiracy radio show, “Eyes to the Skies,” ...what is it with the eyes lately… Trevor's show is featured on the award-winning podcast Cryptids, a completed show told in seven episodes and can be found on wherever your podcasts are located, be it on [ Apple ](https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/cryptids/id1479266398) , [ Stitcher ](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/wild-obscura/cryptids) , or anywhere else! I feel like this is something I could genuinely show Nic… and Strand, if only to annoy him. And just as Trevor would say: _"Keep your eyes to the skies…"_

…

[Musical Interlude]

_[Car-running]_

_"Alright… Strand, where are you?"_

There I was in our rental car at the parking lot of H.M.P. [CENSORED], waiting for Strand to shamble out through those front doors hoping to see that he's no worse for wear, no more bruised or scarred than he was this morning. Thankfully, Jonathan was right about the timing because it took less than five minutes for him to indeed come limping through the doors. With two officers on either side practically holding him upright, Strand could be seen wearily trying to convince them that he's just fine, he clearly wasn't.

_[Car door is swung open and Alex runs out]_

_[Wind rushing]_

_"Strand!!! Are you alright!?"_

_"Listen, I'm fine… A-Alex!? What the Hell are you…?!"_

_[Alex embraces Strand, her voice is part ways muffled]_

_"Strand!! Good God, what happened to you!?"_

_"Nothing… I'm fine, seriously…"_

Upon an Officer asking if Strand were with me, I confirmed as such before he was able to protest.

_"Y-Yes! Come on, that's our rental, help me get him there!"_

_"Oh for God's sake…"_

Despite his grumbling, Strand didn't _really_ resist having the officers and I helping him into the car. He first got there by bus and in the state he was in at the time I pulled up, he would **_not_ ** have been able to take himself back. He was hoisted in as gently as we could and the sigh he gave after letting himself relax in the passenger seat was all kinds of reassuring. The officers were even nice enough to give us two bottles of water just to ensure that Strand would have _something_ to keep him going through the trip. On the road he was worryingly quiet, at pretty much every stoplight I had to look over and stare for a second just to make sure that he hadn't died. Strand was pale, like a Vampire had drained his blood type pale. He was sweating bullets and I had to straight up _take_ his glasses off from how often they'd come dangerously close to _sliding_ off, but once I did I saw that his eyes were **_beyond_ ** the definition of lifeless. Is there even a term for the look in them…? A pair of those eyes on a man like Strand felt so downright unholy, it was scaring me.

So maybe, I sincerely hoped, maybe I could get him to speak somehow, and get confirmation if he's in genuine pain or just exhausted past the realm of human comprehension and only needed to sleep it off. Maybe I could get him to a hospital.

_"Okay, the hospital's coming up soon, I'll take you there."_

_[Groan of vehement refusal]_

That's just what I expected and it was so good to hear his voice in some manner.

_"But seriously, look at yourself! I need to take you to the hospital, did your scar split open?!"_

_[Frustrated noise]_

_"Then where do you want…"_

_[Overlapping two-syllabled grunt]_

_"Strand, I'm sorry but I need you to speak as clearly as you can. Go slowly okay?"_

_"...don't… patronize me… Alex…"_

This was the worst condition that I've ever seen him in.

_"The hotel, right?"_

_".....mm-hm…"_

_"...just promise me that you'll drink the water, it's nice and cold. Should do you some good."_

_"[tsk]... yes Ma'am…"_

After turning around from the course to the hospital I upheld my half of the promise and made my way back to The Dome Sloane Square Hotel, while Strand upheld his half by downing one bottle faster than I bet he expected to and shakingly used the other as an impromptu ice pack. I made a point to put the fan on high for him and looked on as he shifted in his seat to get as much of the sunlight out of his bloodshot eyes as possible.

At another stoplight, I thought he'd fallen asleep, but no. He was sluggishly mumbling to himself.

His voice couldn't carry loud enough to reach the recorder, so I'll tell you instead. He was asking to no one in particular:

 _"How did he know?"_ Over and over and over… with some variants, but it was more or less the same. Now I _could've_ misheard him! I could be wrong and with him having been too delirious to even remember that he said anything, I could have completely imagined it. But I don't think so. And I'll tell you why in a minute.

_"Strand, if you ever feel carsick, let me know okay?"_

_"Y...Yeah. Don't worry, I-"_

Just then Strand _jolted_ back to life, wide-eyed and panicked, fixing his unfocused and glassy gaze outside his window into hyper-focused target sights as he gasped hard enough to almost make him choke. 

_"That door in the street..."_

It was happening again, only this time Strand suddenly ducked down as far as he could as if he could avoid detection from this imaginary(?) door that I'd surely already driven past by then.

_"P-Please Strand, just calm down, you're not making sense."_

_"_ **_This_ ** _doesn't make sense, Alex... it can't…! It c-can't make_ **_sense_ ** _!! I won't let it… this can't be happening… I can't let it…!"_

A mile or two down the highway, he kinda just _snapped_ back to himself and went radio silent when I tried asking about the door he saw, or thought he saw.

Back at the Dome Sloane Square Hotel, a kind staff member had to help me haul Strand up to our room, the elevator was a bit too risky as he started swallowing more often and I really couldn't risk the elevator driving him to motion-sickness induced vomiting, that was enough of a worry inside the car. But the stairs weren't kind to him either, with a break being needed every other flight or so. There were also times where he'd stumble, lose his grip on us, or hallucinate that someone called his name. He'd resort to shaking us off and looking around in a not-so-stifled panic, once I swore I heard him mumbling about where the "monster" was coming to get him. But just as quickly as these _spells_ overcame him, Strand would wearily turn back to us, ignore any questions, and try to act as if nothing had happened.

Finally we made it back to our room and Strand almost immediately crashed on the bed. I was kinda glad I took his glasses off, he would've broken them and blinded himself. After shuffling himself into a not- _as_ -painful-looking position, he groggily called out to me.

_"Come on, you don't have to say anything just rest for now."_

_"Elias Bouchard…"_

_"Strand please--"_

_"_ ** _Elias. Bouchard._** _…is a textbook psychopath, who cannot - can_ ** _not_** _\- be reasoned with. He is criminally insane… and is physically incapable of coherent speech, or rational thought. Do not, Alex…_ ** _do-_** _[CENSORED]-_ ** _NOT_** _try to engage with him, please. I am begging you._ ** _Please._** _You promised not to do anything stupid…"_

Then, he passed _all the way_ out. I knew I couldn't shake him awake if I wanted to try and honestly it was a miracle to find that he was still breathing. We stayed in London for two more days after that, and for each one I was utterly afraid to leave his side, even when he pressed that he was fine, and even when he started looking comparatively better than on that first day. 

Until, on the morning of the final day...

_"Alex. Seriously?"_

_"Eat."_

_"You shouldn't feel the need to coddle me. You're not my_ **_Mom_ ** _for Christ sake."_

_"So you've made your Mom do things like this too? You're just this difficult by nature?"_

It took another second for him to respond, I struck something of a nerve with that.

_"...what the Hell has gotten into you? Ever since I left to speak with Elias, you've been going a bit…"_

_"What? Say it. Say what's on your mind. Hasn't stopped you before. Why start now?"_

_"[disgruntled sigh] Alright, fine. You want it so bad then here it is: I think you've lost your [CENSORED]_ _mind, Alex."_

_"Oh me?_ **_Me??_ ** _Between the two of us,_ **_I'm_ ** _the one who's lost their [CENSORED] mind, am I? While you can go on all day and all [CENSORED] night about Spiral doors and night terrors and your Schizo-trips and whatever monster you think is out to Freddy Krueger your ass, but_ **_I'M_ ** _the crazy one, simply for wanting to make sure that you do the basic minimum requirement that's downright expected of people my age and older to do by themselves. Yeah sure, nice going Dr. Hypocrite."_

_"You genuinely have no right to use my nightmares against me, insomniac. I've had to endure your shadow monsters and government conspiracies about demon summoning since we first met, understand? I know an extremely good couple of like-minded lunatics on Youtube you could get involved with. What are you gonna go rambling on about now huh?! Chemtrails? Anti-vaccination? Maybe the Illuminati implanted these thoughts in my head and I'm actually one of your Lizard Overlords! Wouldn't that be nice?"_

_"Do you even remember your little hissy-fit about a teleporting spiral door, or are you just gonna keep pretending that you don't remember!?"_

_"I really don't remember, Alex. I swear to you. Swear to God, I've been nothing but steadfast in my skepticism over the entire_ **_thing_ ** _that's going on at Magnus, but_ **_you_ ** _…. you really believe all this [CENSORED]. You really wanna join their [CENSORED] terrorist cult huh? [CENSORED], I never should've taken you here. I knew I should've done this alone. I sure don't remember calling my Princess in Shining Silk to come and rescue me."_

_"You know you wouldn't have_ **_survived_ ** _if it weren't for me! But you know what!? Maybe you're actually right about something for once in your meaningless life! Maybe you shouldn't have shown me all this! But you know what else!? Those are 'maybes' and 'hypotheticals', I thought you_ **_despised_ ** _ambiguity, you splitting son of a [CENSORED]!"_

_"That's the difference between you and I Alex. I never needed a mediator like Nic to tell me when to stop digging into someone's past and still have the goddamned_ **_nerve_ ** _to do so_ **_any-_ ** _[CENSORED]-_ **_way_ ** _and broadcast it to thousands of strangers. I have something that might seem foreign to you:_ **_a sense of right and wrong!_ ** _And doesn't that make you just a little bit crazy? Didn't you lose your right to call anyone 'crazy' a long-ass time ago?"_

_"Oh [CENSORED] stop it Strand! As if we need to go back to this topic! But hey, since you wanna, let's discuss the topic of your oh-so "Skeptical" father and face the fact that he only ever knew how to lie to you-!"_

_"_ **_Say one more thing about my father and so help me Reagan I will-!_ **"

_[Knocking]_

_[...]_

_[Knocking]_

_"Don't answer it."_

_[Springs inside the bed mattress creak at Alex's movements]_

_"Don't tell me what to do."_

_[Knocking]_

_"Alex, no--!!"_

_[Door creaks open]_

_"...uh, hi, uhh… Jon said that you two would be arguing right about now."_

_"And that we'd be the 'best people' to calm you both down."_

_"And you two are…?"_

_"Melanie. Melanie King."_

_"Georgie Barker, at your service."_

…Melanie King and Georgie Barker, two "former associates" with the Magnus Archives and current-friends with Jonathan Sims, who's Eye abilities or sheer luck had correctly pinpointed the fact that Strand and I were indeed arguing in that moment and had sent an "Emergency Calm-Down Squad" to our aid.

Though the original name was thought up by Melanie and was the "Emergency Get-Alex-Reagan-And-Dr.-Richard-Strand-To-Calm-The-[CENSORED]-Down Squad", but Jonathan offered to change it due to - as he apparently said - "sanity reasons".

Thanks Jon.

Melanie wore sunglasses, and from the scarring I could see and the walking cane, she either met the same sleepwalk Spiral demon as Strand or suffered an extreme workplace accident. She was the smaller of the two women and had a smile soft enough to warm snow. Georgie on the other end was a bit taller than her partner, confident and had a fearless quality to her on first judgement. They each seemed ready to help us.

As both of them were uncomfortable with the recorder I forgot was on, I turned it off for the rest of the duration, but they did allow a recap, in fact they encouraged it. So basically, Melanie focused her attention on Strand while Georgie focused on me. 

Strand clearly wasn't having it at first but after only meaning to point to the door and order the two to get out, he almost ended up _clawing(???)_ Melanie in the face. Georgie protected her by calmly getting in harm's way and just barely catching the accidental attack for her, resulting in a few paper-cut level scratches and a few shorter hairs. As he pointed, the doorknob visibly and audibly shuddered _as if_ it was trying to unlock on it's own. I only speak this vaguely to avoid terrifying Strand, as when all this happened so quickly he instantly stopped, his posture suddenly so stiff that I thought his blood froze for a second. Melanie - despite her vision impairment - was able to unsteadily reach out and touch his hand (either it _turned back into_ his hand or it _always was_ and I was just seeing things, it all happened so fast it was pretty much just a blur), Strand again _snapped_ back into being himself and apologized to them both in his usual curt style.

He tried to get up and find some medical supplies to treat Georgie but they both politely refused and forgave his mistake. Strand was three seconds from rejecting their forgiveness until Melanie mentioned that before all that _"Magnus stuff"_ she never thought that she would like the idea of meeting him, she always thought that he was just some, quote: _"douchebag denialist who gets off on hurting peoples' feelings."_

Georgie and I couldn't help but chuckle at that, as she wasn't entirely wrong and apparently Georgie once dated _Jon_ and he was the same way! Small world, we said! Meanwhile Strand revealed that he was actually a regular viewer of Melanie's old Ghost Hunt U.K. Youtube show!? He confessed that his favorite episodes were the April Fools' ones, quoting: _"because at least_ _the humor was intentional for a change."_ The two then began roasting each other.

I'd say that they hit it off pretty well!

The entire day the four of us spent together. Georgie offered Strand a chance to be interviewed on her - and now Melanie's - What the Ghost Podcast, which he actually didn't refuse… on the condition that **I** be included as well with his justification being that he _"didn't want [me] to get jealous"_ whatever **_that_ **meant! So look forward to that, I guess! 

Melanie and I are now in each others' contact lists and she has promised to have Georgie send only the cutest pictures of their cat _The Admiral,_ and yes, the _"The"_ is in his name. Strand teased that if that were the case, then the cat's name was technically _"The"_ with _"Admiral"_ being his surname, but Georgie interjected that in purely technical terms The Admiral's surname is Barker, to which Strand shot back by bringing out his phone and Google searching for a place called _The Admiral's Barker_ , and expressed faux sadness that no such pet-sitting place actually exists. I swear, this man… Not to mention that when I tried to spoon-feed Strand his then-cold pancakes again - for no reason I remind you, Georgie and Melanie decided to teach an impromptu crash course on how to do so and reach _"Peak Romance Level"_ in the process. As apparently, my form was _"way off"_. 

Strand scoffed, proclaiming that his ex-husband status made him the most qualified to teach this class, before immediately retracting that as the irony was getting physically painful. And you know, as embarrassing as that was for me too, you have not **_lived_ ** until you've seen Dr. Richard Strand blush. That made everything worth it.

By the time it came for us to leave, I honestly felt genuinely upset that we couldn't stay any longer. In just the span of pretty much twenty-four hours I felt like the two of us had made really good friends. They even accompanied us when we gave up the rental and drove us to the airport. Even Strand, for all his snide arrogance, readily admitted that he would like to come back, and that maybe if his investigation into the Magnus Institute was a total bust with nothing of worth being gleaned from it - his words, he didn't feel too, _too_ broken up over that fact. Of course he had to ruin his own good moment by adding a little _"...yet."_ at the end but, for the moment at least, he felt okay.

I still can't convince myself of that.

I still don't even know how I knew half the things I was yelling at him over…

So now we're back in good ol' Seattle and I'm actually recording this portion of the narration from Strand's house, on Nic's stubborn request. Knew I shouldn't have told him about the _Peak Romance_ part. But a-anyway, I just came back from checking on him, after helping change his bandages, I can safely say that Strand is doing much better. Still bed-ridden, but not as sick as he was. Though he did have a really strange change-of-heart that I got on tape.

_"Alex. I've been thinking."_

_"That should be a good sign."_

_"Normally it is, but…"_

_[...]_

_"Let's not make an episode about this."_

_"Huh? That, that was literally the reason why you brought this to my attention! Did something happen?"_

_"No, nothing_ **_happened_ ** _per say, I'm just… changing my mind. You can write about this or something instead."_

_"But why? The episodes are_ ** _done_** _! They're_ _recorded, edited, this trilogy is literally finished."_

_"I understand that, and I'm truly sorry. I've already told Nic and he reluctantly agreed to think it over when I pointed out that this could potentially flood the Magnus Institute with more victims, especially with the London-based members in your audience."_

_"Victims, so you_ **_did_ ** _find something incriminating?"_

_"Never said that. I just don't want to trigger any sudden resurgence of interest. Edgy teenagers who go to the Magnus Institute looking to harass the innocent members of staff, and bring more pitiful gullibles flocking toward Mr. Sims in an attempt to take up my mission… I… wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that I'm the one who got someone hurt, missing, or killed."_

_"But what our fans do isn't anything that we can control. I could make ten, twenty disclaimers begging them not to take matters into their own hands and attempt to engage with the Magnus Institute. But it never works, there's always someone who's just gonna do what they want, but that's an extreme minority of our audience Strand. Everyone else will understand."_

_"That kinda proves my point. I don't want_ **_anyone_ ** _to do any vigilante work_ **_at all_ ** _. So let's not upload this. Okay? Besides, if they were able to erase the Wax Museum articles, they can erase some American's podcast episodes. Easily."_

_"We worked so hard on this, we can't let it go to waste, if deletion is what you're worried about then we'll advise people to download and reupload them."_

_"That feels very illegal."_

_"Then can we at least delay it's release? Maybe if we just delay it, we'll be able to boost views for Georgie's podcast, and then we'll offer a little backstory on how we ended up on her show's roster after the fact!"_

_"...that's a touch manipulative."_

_"Then we'll just delay it, until you're ready."_

He mulled it over for a long, long time. Biting his lip at points and toying with his ring finger at others. Until…

_"Fine. A delay is fine. But_ **_please_ ** _only upload it when I'm ready."_

_"I promise."_

_"Pinky-promise."_

_"Seriously?"_

_"For me to believe anything, I need irrefutable, physical proof of its existence. So please."_

_"Oh fine."_

...it was settled. We will delay these episodes until Strand was comfortable enough to upload them. So whenever you listen to this, I implore you: do not engage with the Magnus Institute nor any of its current or former associates. Please. We say this for your own safety.

_"Oh and uh, Alex? Before you leave..."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"...I know it's nothing but my own mind playing tricks on me but given the fallible nature of the human brain, I'll ask anyway for... confirmation sake."_

_"Go ahead, is something wrong?"_

_"Can you... keep an eye on me for a while until I fall asleep, and just check up on me every now and then...?"_

_"You've been staying in bed since we came back from Magnus, are you still having nightmares?"_

_"I actually think they've gone back to normal now but... I'd **really** rather not let my guard down and go walking out that window or something stupid."_

_"We need to have you schedule a date with a sleep specialist. We should probably go together, in all honesty."_

_"Like I said, they're back to normal now, but just for cautionary reasons... would you...?"_

_"Yeah. Of course I will."_

_"...thanks."_

From just the absolute state that Strand was in, woozily limping out of the prison, barely being able to stand, and _barely_ being able to open his eyes. His hallucinations, sleepwalking nightmares, his sudden illness, and… whatever happened between him and Bouchard. No matter how insistent that man was to claim that he was in some unknown realm of alrightness that no one else has ever heard of, there was definitely something going on with him.

_"...and, uh, one more thing."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"...for everything I..."_

_[...]_

_"...I'm sorry."_

_"No it's alright, I know. I should've been the one to apologize first. I started it."_

_"But even still I shouldn't have escalated it like I did. It was stupid of me to snap at you like that, so I apologize..."_

_"You don't have anything to apologize for Strand. Seriously, it was my fault, I wasn't able to recognize how sick you felt and said a lot of really hurtful things. I'm sorry for that."_

_"Do you know anything about my father?"_

_"Huh? No, not outside of what you told me."_

_"How come you assumed that he was lying to me?"_

_"I... I don't know, it just, slipped I guess, I tend to do that when I get upset. I know hurt you pretty bad with that. Sorry."_

_"...it's fine, I've forgiven you. Just wondering where it came from."_

_"Me too..."_

This is the true reason why I'm inclined to believe that the ulterior motive behind the Magnus Institute is the real deal. If that weren't enough, it was after Strand had finally felt safe enough to take a proper nap, so he'll be out for the next few hours. No matter how much I stared, I can't believe it doesn't feel _real_ until I confirm its existence in my own words. There is a creaked open drawer in his bedroom right now and inside…

...is a brand new Black Tape labeled _The Magnus Archives._

**.**

**.**

**.**

  
_The Black Tapes Podcast_ is a Pacific Northwest Stories and Minnow Beats Whale production. Recorded in Seattle and Vancouver. Produced by Nic Silver. Mixed and engineered by Nic Silver and Alan Williams. Edited by Nic Silver and Alex Reagan. Executive producers Paul Bay and Terry Miles. Meanwhile _The Magnus Archives_ is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill, licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share-Alike 4.0 International License. This story was a fan-made creation with no affiliation to Rusty Quill nor any of it's associates whatsoever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clocking in at over 32,000 words and 90 pages, my first crossover is finally complete!! To those who commented, left a Kudos, or just thought the title or description were intersting enough to click on, thank you all so SO much for reading See no Evil, Deny all Falsehoods!!! I love you all ❤

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be my first multi-chapter work! It took a good minute to write this all out but I hope it's good enough for someone to enjoy it! See you in Chapter 2!


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